
Qass_&T.il5_ 
Copyright N°_ 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 




JOHN M. TODD. 



A Sketch of the Life 



OF 



JOHN M. TODD 

(Sixty-two Years in a Barber Shop) 



AND 



Reminiscences of His Customers 



WRITTEN BY HIMSELF 



PORTLAND 

William W. Roberts Co. 
1906 






OCT 6 1906 
oowt 



Copyright 1906 
By JOHN M. TODD 



Press of Smith & Sale, Portland, Me. 



CONTENTS. 



PREFACE, ...... 

SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

INSPIRATION, 

SPIRITUALISM, 

ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

MISCELLANEOUS, . 

SOCIALISM, .... 

PRAYERS, .... 

SHORT STORIES, 
BARBERS' STORIES, 
BARBERS' FORMULAS, 
IF I WERE A VOICE, 



PAGE 

V 

3 
29 

33 

63 

183 

246 

2 73 

277 
300 

3i9 
323 



PREFACE. 



De morhcis nil nisi bonum. 

Say nothing but good of the dead. 

" For noble spirits war not with the dead." 

—Byron. 

This book was written and compiled during business hours, 
between shaves and hair cuts, and all that time I stood at my 
chair and earned my living, supported my family, wrote every 
week an article for the Press, and arranged for the publishing 
of this book, with but little capital, either mental or financial. 

This volume — a true and literal history of the struggle of an 
ardent but not ambitious mind, except ambitious to do right 
and often failed in that ; born amidst poverty, that New England 
slavery, and under poor conditions so far as the luxuries of 
life are concerned, my parents bestowed upon me a fine consti- 
tution, and that is better than riches— I publish this more for a 
guide, advice and encouragement to those who live in the 
humble walks of life than to those who have all the advantages 
that wealth can bestow, who have more power and opportunities 
to do good than they properly use. And if I can save only 
one poor fellow by writing this book and pointing out to him a 
more acceptable way, I shall feel I have not lived in vain. 

YEARNING. 

I yearn for all who sorrow, 

To wipe their tears away ; 
For every glad to-morrow 

That beckons me to-day. 
To lift the pall that smothers; 
To make my joys another's ; 
To know all men my brothers 

And helping words to say. 



VI PREFACE 

I long to bear the burdens 

That scar the bending race ; 
To win the prize that guerdons 

My hopes of final grace ; 

To feel God's spirit moving 

My heart to deeds of loving 

And seeing Him approving 

To look upon His face. 

To hear the sound of contest 

And know the battle nigh ; 

To join the mighty conquest 

With courage strong and high. 
To feel upon my shoulder 
God's hand, that makes me bolder 
And stirs the dreams that smolder 
To fires that shall not die. 

I long to feel the throbbing 
Of weary hearts and lone ; 

To still the sigh and sobbing 
That have not comfort known ; 

Bring smiles to faces tearful ; 

Bring hope to spirits fearful ; 

To make the sad life cheerful 
And make its griefs mine own. 

I yearn to bring the glory 
Of smiling skies to gray ; 

To gladden all Life's story 
And take its pain away ; 

From brightening days to borrow 

A hope that healeth sorrow ; 

For every bright to-morrow 
That beckons me to-day. 

— Maurice Smiley. 



Timothy Dexter lived in Portsmouth many years ago. He 
wrote quite a large book and placed the punctuation marks in 
the back of the book and said, " You can place them to suit 
yourselves." I always supposed it was a satire upon the 
interpretation of the Bible by the different theologians. 



PREFACE Vll 

I shall not put mine altogether in the back of the book, but 
I shall throw them around promiscuously through it. 

I have worked in a barber shop sixty-two years, and have 
read from five to six hours a day during those years. During 
all that time I have had the benefit derived from the conversa- 
tions of many of the best men in the country and the most 
cultivated minds, no small blessing, I can assure you ; and a 
part of what I have heard I have written in this book. 



JOHN M. TODD 



" 'Tis pleasant to see one's name in print. 

A book's a book, although there is nothing in't." 

Byron. 

And, as Rufus Choate said, there is no immortality but a book, I thought 
I would try my hand at it. 



Sketch of the Life of John M. Todd 



[ was born in Durham, Maine, at the southwest bend of the 
* Androscoggin River, when I was quite young, and I was 
not consulted in regard to the event. It was very near where 
Congressman Dingley was born, and had he consulted me on 
the tariff question, I should have told him it was too high for 
the benefit of the Durham farmers. 

It was on the eighth day of April, 182 1, so I am told, when 
I was born, but I do not recollect the day. Father has 
informed me that it was a backward spring and there were four 
feet of snow on the ground on that eventful morn. He walked 
two miles and a half upon the crust and snow and it bore him 
every step. He went after a nurse, for he and mother had 
concluded I was worth raising. I was the seventh child, and 
mother has told me that I was the most unwelcome child she 
ever brought into the world. Mother said I was handsome, 
and when mothers say it we must take it for granted that it 
is so. 

My parents were very poor before I was born, but I cared 
nothing for poverty. Mother has informed me since that she 
had nothing to cover me with but a blanket and that had holes 
in it, and I could see through it, as the old woman said when 
her tub bottom fell out. 

Father had been a sea captain, and in the War of 18 12 he 
was driven ashore by an English man-of-war and lost all he pos- 



4 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

sessed. He became disheartened and sank under the weight 
of his misfortunes; but mother, the Spartan that she was, took 
charge of affairs, and you can judge her by her acts. 

Not long before I was born my parents moved from Free- 
port to Durham. There was due a grocery bill, and they had 
no money to pay it with. The law at that time allowed a 
debtor to keep one cow, that a creditor could not take for 
debt; mother urged the trader to take the cow for the bill, but 
"No, no," was his reply, "I cannot do that, Mrs. Todd. Keep 
your cow, you will need him where you are going," for well he 
knew it was a dreary place where she was bound and in the 
dead of winter. But that did not satisfy mother; she drove 
the cow into the merchant's barnyard and left her there, 
against his earnest protest. 

When the sled, drawn by oxen, arrived at the Durham home, 
there was deep snow all around it, only a path leading from 
the street to the house, just wide enough for one to walk in. 
There were no clapboards on the house, but it was battened with 
strips of boards. My brother, three years old, sitting in moth- 
er's lap looking at the house, childlike, said to her, " I thought 
you was going to move into a house." " Well, isn't that a house, 
Willie ? " " No, that is a barn." Mother has told me that she 
thought her heart would break. She walked into the house 
with her child in her arms, dropped into a chair that father had 
just placed in the room and burst into tears. Father looked 
at her, kissed her and said, "What is the matter, Sallie ? " (the 
name he always called her), "Are you sick?" '-No," she 
replied. Oh, no, she wasn't sick, she was only feeling badly. 

Fifty years after that, when mother was eighty-seven, one 
evening she said to a clergyman who was present, " How 
mysterious are God's ways ! " and, pointing to me, said, (I was 
fifty then,) "There, that boy was the most unwelcome child I 
ever brought into the world, and I have had ten children, he 
being the seventh ; we were destitute and my husband was at 
work for seventy-five cents a day to support a family of eight. 
It is not to be wondered at that no more expenses were desired. 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 5 

How many times have I spoken of it to my husband that 
he of all the children should be the one to lean upon in 
life's decline. He was always so willing and generous to do 
all he could to help us." When she got through speaking I 
thought I would say a word in regard to God's Providence. 
I said, " Mother, there is no mystery but ignorance. Had you 
at that time, when you threw yourself into the chair and wept 
over your poverty, known that at that moment you were educat- 
ing your unborn child and influencing him to become in deep 
sympathy with the poor, suffering and afflicted ; had you known 
then of the law of physiology and of prenatal education, God's 
Providence might not appear so mysterious to you." 

I never saw the house nor the lot where I was born, so I 
cannot say with Maine's great poet, David Barker : 

I never shall tell who the old folks were, 

'Tis a wasting of time and breath 
To give you the names of the humble pair 

Who have passed through the courts of death. 

But the cot on the lot on the top of the hill, 

Near the spot where I just have cried — 
'Tis the lot where the old folks toiled and lived, 

And the cot where the old folks died — 

Is dearer far to my weary heart 

Than the dearest spot on earth, 
For that was the cot on the lot on the hill 

Where the old folks gave me birth. 

There's a slab near the cot on the lot on the hill 

That will tell to the traveller there, 
When the old folks passed through the gates of death, 

And the names of the humble pair. 

When I tire of the toils and the cares of my life, 

Oh, then, at the spot where I cried, 
Near the cot let me sleep, on the top of the hill, 

Cuddled down by the old folks' side. 

My parents' remains do not rest there in the town of Durham, 
but in Portland's Evergreen Cemetery, where I have a lot and 



6 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

shall there be placed beside them, unless I can more usefully 
serve mankind by being dissected, if it could be kept from my 
family. 

When I was three years old my parents moved into the town 
of Brunswick. I was reared under the shadow of Bowdoin 
College. The first thing I distinctly remember was, when the 
wagon was driven to the door where we were to live, an old 
lady stepped out and ran up to take me from my mother's 
arms. I remember it as though it was but yesterday, and I 
know I was but three years of age. I sprang from mother's 
arms and would have fallen to the ground had not the old lady 
caught me before I reached it. I never fully understood 
whether it was my native modesty or my love of the beautiful 
that caused me to shrink from her, for to my youthful eyes she 
did not look beautiful. I have seen many since that looked 
fairer to me than she, and more lovely — poor old Aunt Hitty 
House, that was her name. 

When I was four years old a sister of mine, nine years of age, 
took me to walk ; there was a house being built near by, so she 
thought she would let me walk over the sills and the beams, as 
the flooring was not laid, so down I went nine feet below on the 
sharp rocks that had been blown out by blasting. I was taken 
up unconscious, but came to in a short time, although I carry 
the scars of that fall to the present day. 

The house stood on Mill street, opposite Bisbee rock, on the 
banks of the Androscoggin River, and it was there the first real 
grief I ever knew came to me, for my little playmate, Eben 
Hall, fell into the river and was drowned. On his way over 
the bank he clasped a small bush, but it was too slight and 
came up by the roots ; he took it with him and it was in his 
hands when found. I was not over five years old and my 
sister took me in her arms and held me up so I could look in 
the face of my dear playmate. It was the first time I ever 
gazed upon the face of the dead. Oh, how it shocked me ! 
Its recollection remains with me still. 

In the spring of 1825, when I was but four years of age, the 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 7 

great and famous class of Bowdoin graduated, with its Long- 
fellow, Hawthorne and Cheever, and other members who became 
famous throughout the world. I remember the event plainly. 
My sister, a few years older than I, held me in her lap (one of 
her playmates was with her) ; she looked out of the window 
and, seeing Longfellow approaching, said, " There comes the 
dandy." That was the name given to young men of that time 
who dressed a little better than the rest and carried themselves 
a little more circumspectly than the other boys, and those that 
appeared to put on a few airs, or what we now call dudes 
instead of dandies. I cried out, "Let me see the dandy." I 
did not know what it was and, boylike, I looked him over. He 
had dark auburn hair, walked erect, and had a dark blue cloak 
thrown over his shoulders. I remember it as though it were 
yesterday, and in after years, whenever I saw him or met 
him, I always would think of him as he appeared to me on 
that day. 

We had moved that spring to Main street in an old, one- 
story house, where the Brunswick Bank now stands. It was 
owned by David Dunlap, Esq., a brother to the late Robert P. 
Dunlap, and a governor of Maine. I knew he owned the house 
I lived in. I was out at play with some small boys. He was 
close to us and I wanted to show that deference to him that I 
have ever paid to the rich (and I speak to the rich now just 
the same). I said to the boys, " Hush, there comes David 
Dunlap!" and I meant no disrespect to him. He heard me, 
took me by the arm pretty hard and said, "Whose boy are you ? 
Go home and tell your mother to teach you politeness." I felt 
it keenly, for I thought mother had taught me politeness. He 
did not like it because I said David Dunlap. We were taught 
to show great respect to the rich, and at that time he was 
called the richest man in Brunswick, being worth $12,000. 

Only think of it, you hustlers ; at that time we doffed our 
hats as high and bowed our heads as low as you would if meet- 
ing Rockefeller, or Tom Lawson, that Martin Luther of the 
economic reform that is now approaching. 



8 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

The first doggerel that I remember my mother teaching me 

was: 

" Be kind to all you chance to meet 
At home, abroad, or in the street ; 
And keep this motto before your eyes, 
That vinegar never catches flies." 

And the second rhyme she taught me was : 

" God made man, and man made money, 
God made bees, and bees made honey." 

And I studied for many years that truth, that man did make 
money, not God, and how men have used it to rob their fellow 
men. 

The spring I was seven my father moved out of the village 
to a farm four miles south of the college, a small hamlet known 
as " Bunganut " or " Bunnunganut," an Indian name of a small 
stream emptying into Maquoit or Casco Bay. 

It was there, in a little red schoolhouse sitting at the forks 
of the road, I learned grammar by hearing girls reciting and 
parsing — where I first appeared as an orator, for I was bound 
to be one. At an exhibition by the boys I was selected to 
speak a piece. I was introduced as "Master Todd" or Mr. 
Norvel. And I commenced : 

" My name is Norvel. On the Grampian hills my father feeds his flock ; 
a frugal swain, whose constant care was to increase his store and keep his 
only son, myself, at home. For I had heard of battles and longed to 
follow to the fields some warlike lord. And heaven soon granted what my 
sire denied. 

The moon that rose last night, round as my shield, had not yet filled her 
horns when, by her light, a band of fierce barbarians rushed like a torrent 
down upon our flocks and herds, the shepherds fled as trembling cowards 
for safety and for succor. The pursuit I led. When I, with a band of 
fifty chosen men, overtook the encumbered foe ; we fought and conquered. 
Not a sword was drawn. An arrow from my bow had pierced their chief, 
and I returned in triumph." 

Ye powers, did not the house come down ! They yelled and 
screamed. And since then, when I have been haranguing 
crowds and have been loudly cheered, I have had some doubts 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 9 

whether it was the perfection of the oratory, or its oddity, that 
so stirred and enthused them. Anyway, I do not feel quite so 
enthusiastic to-day when thinking of it as I did on that event- 
ful night, and I am thinking over the words of Byron : 

" Time, the corrector where our judgment errs, 
Time, the avenger, on thee I call." 

And I think it has heard my call and has helped me somewhat 
on the judgment question. 

At nine years of age I was struck by lightning, together with 
a sister and younger brother ; we were taken up unconscious, 
but we were all restored. 

I worked on a farm until I was thirteen years old, then I 
went to sea four years and a half, came home, learned the 
horseshoeing and blacksmith's trade, carried on the business 
two years in Bath, Me. ; laid down my hammer, and have 
worked sixty-two years in a barber shop. So you see, my 
readers, I must be getting along in years. 

At thirteen years of age I shipped aboard the schooner 
Algonquin, Capt. Reuben Curtis of Freeport, and for seven 
days I was so sick he was afraid I would die. I was constantly 
vomiting or trying to vomit, and for over four years that I fol- 
lowed the sea, whenever there was a gale or a storm I was 
always sick. I never got over it while I followed the sea, and 
I contend it is the brain and not the stomach that causes sea- 
sickness. Now I feel very sure that I have been correct. For 
the last ten years I have not been sick and I have been exposed 
a great many times where always before, under similar circum- 
stances, I had been sick. I have been told that if a blur comes 
across the eyes of a person when looking upon a striped piece 
of calico, those are the ones who are seasick. 

In my own case I think the reason must be that at my great 
age my brain must have shrunk away and it doesn't strike the 
skull now when it is in motion, as formerly, hence the rolling 
of the ship doesn't affect me. 



IO SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

At fourteen I shipped on board the schooner Fairdealer, 
Capt. James Dunning of Freeport ; we went to Yarmouth, Me., 
for a cargo of potatoes to take to Boston. While at Yarmouth 
I took a boat to go for some fresh water. I went so near the 
falls the boat was swept under them. I knew that a few years 
before two men were drowned under the same conditions; my 
boat was being swept under the falls by the back water caused 
by the falls. I thought it would not do to follow their example 
and go under with the boat. Being a good swimmer I reck- 
oned I could jump out of the eddy, although I could not get 
the boat out, so I ran from seat to seat the length of the boat, 
plunged into the river and struck out for the shore. I reached 
it and there waited some little time before the boat came out of 
the eddy, when I swam to it and brought it ashore. The cap- 
tain scolded me for going so near the falls. He witnessed the 
whole affair, but was helpless to assist me, I having the only 
boat there was to be had. 

After my return from Boston I shipped on board the schooner 
Olive, Capt. Samuel Colley of Freeport, for a fishing trip to 
the Bay of Chaleur. On that trip I had an experience that was 
new and fearful to me. The first night out, was a Monday, a 
lovely evening, a full moon shining making it light as day, and 
not a cloud to obstruct the moon's rays. Ahead of us was the 
schooner Crusader, commanded by Capt. Robert Soule of Free- 
port, who sailed out with us. A young man, a schoolmate of 
mine, whom I loved as a brother, and I stood watch together, 
as w r e had desired. His name was Francis Card, of Brunswick, 
Me. He was walking the decks and I was at the helm. We 
were steering east-southeast, with a fine southwest breeze about 
six or eight miles an hour, the ocean as smooth as a floor. The 
vessel was a schooner of sixty-two tons' register. Her deck 
was so near the water I could almost reach it. The rays of 
the moon shone on the starboard and windward side, and the 
waves for miles away shone with silvery brightness from the 
south. 

Suddenly Frank walked aft, saying, " Look, look, quick, 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD I I 

John, there is a man overboard ; don't you see him ? " I was 
at the rail at his first call and had there been anyone there I 
should have seen him, for no man had better eyes or clearer 
vision than I, and as we were sailing through that blaze of 
light that the moon makes, no daylight was ever clearer. He 
said, "Can you not see that man, John, standing in the water 
about waist high ? " " No, I cannot, for there is no man there, 
Frank, to be seen." I thought he was fooling me. He jumped 
upon the taffrail, grabbed me by the arm and took me from the 
helm, saying in painful tones, "See, do see that man before he 
sinks ! There, he has gone, sunk beneath the waves." He had 
pulled me to the rail in violation of all rules of seamanship, for 
troubling a man at the wheel is a high offence aboard ship. I 
had thrown a rope over the wheel, so she had not changed her 
course. With much emotion, he said, "John, I know I saw a 
man standing waist high in the water, and I cannot account for 
your not seeing it, for no one on board can see better than 
you." I said, "Don't you know, Frank, why I did not see 
him?" "Why did you not see him?" he said. "Because 
there was nothing there to be seen." "No, no, John, you 
should not say that to me, feeling as I do. I tell you the 
Crusader has lost a man overboard and you will know it when 
we arrive at the Straits of Canso." I said, "Why did she not 
heave to if she had lost a man and try to save him, and why 
did he not speak to us to save him ? Why did you not speak to 
him as we passed by, and you declared to me that you were 
looking at him all the time you were walking, aft ? You were 
abreast of him while you were coming aft to call my attention 
that I might see him also. It is very strange to me, whatever 
you think of it. Why did you not throw him a rope ? Surely, 
if it had been a man he would have spoken." "Well, I was 
frightened, for he stood trembling and gazing at me," he said. 

I had been taught by my mother that there was no such 
thing as a spirit and that premonitions and forerunners, 
haunted houses, witchcraft and hobgoblins were all a humbug. 
Still, there it was, a visible something that I could not see, but 



12 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

Frank could. I had become convinced that he really thought 
he saw a man. I was so affected by it that I was afraid to go 
below and made him go ahead of me, and he held back through 
a little fear ; there was no one below, for the rest of the crew 
slept aft, and he and I slept forward. 

An old pilot, Master Pillsbury of Cape Elizabeth, was told 
by Frank the first thing in the morning about seeing the man 
overboard. He questioned him through the day several times, 
and said: "John, what is it Frank is so worried about? Says 
he saw a man overboard and you could not see him; did you 
really try to see if there was anyone there?" "I did, for 
Frank had so frightened me I was bound to know if there was 
a man overboard, and had there been one I should surely have 
seen him." The old pilot replied, "I don't like this story, 
John, it bodes no good to the ship. I fear something will 
happen to us." I laughed at him and said, " You are supersti- 
tious ; that is nothing, Mr. Pillsbury." 

The reader can see that my mother's teachings against ghosts 
had convinced me that there was nothing in the story, and I 
turned it off as lightly and as well as I could. Still I trembled 
while Frank was telling me what he saw that I could not see. 

For three days Frank and the pilot talked much together. 
On Thursday Frank came to me. He appeared very solemn, 
and said, "John, if anything happens to me I want you to see 
my mother and explain to her all about what I saw." I laughed 
and said, "What is the matter with you, Frank, are you foolish ? 
That was nothing. The foolish old pilot has turned your 
head." " No, John, it is not my head, it is my heart. My whole 
soul is afraid ; I cannot rest or sleep." There were four other 
Brunswick boys on board : Amos Tappan (my cousin), Kimball 
Estabrook, Charles Owen and Ran Maxwell. They, too, were 
much excited over the story. 

On Friday, the fourth day out, we drew near to the Straits of 
Canso. There was a smoky south wester, so-called by sailors. 
We could not see more than a mile away. A shout went up, 
" Breakers ahead ! " a cry most dreaded by sailors. All were 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 1 3 

on deck in a moment looking for breakers ahead. I sat down 
at the lee rail with my left arm across it, looking out under the 
jib. We were heading southeast to get out from the breakers, 
the wind blowing fresh from the southwest right abeam. The 
rail my arm was on is called a " monkey rail," about three inches 
by four, of Southern pine with iron posts about six feet apart. 
We had stood close in to the land, hoping to make the Straits, 
but as it proved afterwards we were about twenty-one miles to 
the south of Canso. It was quite thick and Frank started to 
go aloft on the hoops of the mainmast. The pilot, who was at 
the helm, said, "Don't go aloft, Frank, we can see better under 
the glim than you can from aloft. Come down." But he kept 
on until he got within four hoops of the gaff, when the throat- 
halliards parted, and he fell. Seeing the mainsail was coming 
down and fearing the gaff would strike me, I jumped from the 
rail. The instant I left the rail Frank struck it in the very 
place I had had my arm and he pitched overboard. I jumped 
to the taffrail and saw him sink beneath the waves to rise no 
more. The pilot said, "John, there is the man you could not 
see, but Frank saw. It has worried me much ever since he told 
it to me, but it is all over now." 

I have said there were four boys besides Frank and I who 
lived in Brunswick Village, his near neighbors ; I, at that time, 
lived four miles away. I had not mentioned to a soul on board 
what Frank had said to me about seeing his mother if anything 
happened to him. While in the bay fishing a Freeport schooner 
hailed us. They passed quickly. Our captain, with his speak- 
ing trumpet, told them he had lost a boy overboard, but they 
did not get the name, so when they arrived in port, a month 
before we did, they reported the loss of a boy from our vessel. 
Of course, each mother thought it was her son who was lost. 

There was a singular coincidence when we arrived home. 
The captain said to me, "John, I want you to see Frank's 
mother and tell her all the particulars about his death." "Can 
not you go, Captain, or let one of the other boys go ? They live 
near by, and I live four miles away." " No, I want you to go, 



14 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

as you were the only one with him when he saw the man in the 
water." "Why, Captain, do you believe that was a man he 
saw ? " "Ask me no questions, John, but it was a very strange 
thing that you could not see him." I went to see the mother. 
The house stood a few rods from the street, in a field. She saw 
me and came to the door. I do not think she had ever seen me. 
Although a schoolmate, I never visited there. With her apron 
wiping the tears from her eyes, she said, " I know what you 
have come for, to tell me of my dear boy's death. I knew it 
was he, for the night after he was lost he came to my bedside 
and said, ' Mother, it is Frank.' I worried over it ever since, 
and when the news came that a boy had been lost from the 
schooner Olive, I knew it was my dear boy." 

Two weeks after the young man fell overboard I fell from 
the jibboom. We were hove to under a reefed foresail, making 
but little headway. I was a good swimmer and was not the 
least frightened, did not even lose my hat off my head. I took 
in the situation at a glance, although but fourteen years of age. 
I thought the vessel would drift to the leeward before she 
passed me. I was some way ahead of her, and swam straight 
to the leeward. She came right up to me — just what I wanted, 
for I had calculated to catch the chain that hung from the 
anchor through the hawsehole. All hands ran aft, throwing 
ropes overboard for me to catch. The captain said, " She has 
gone over him ; he is gone, sure." They were about to lower 
the boat when they heard me shout, "I am all right. Come 
forward and help me up." And they did so. 

The next day a large shark came swimming around the stern 
and away went the mackerel. Well, when I saw him I thought 
I should drop to the deck as the thought passed through my 
mind, had he come there yesterday ! With all my fright I had 
rather see him at that time than the day before. 

The winter I was ten or eleven I went to school two months. 
The teacher was a Mr. Adams, a pious young man, who after- 
wards became a minister. One day he concluded to give me 
a feruling. Of course I was innocent. He gave me twenty- 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 1 5 

seven blows with a ferule two feet long and two inches wide. 
I did not flinch, but passed him first one hand and then the 
other. At that juncture a young lady about sixteen years old, 
Miss Julia -Chase, a daughter of Samuel Chase, Esq., arose in 
her seat, with the dignity of a queen, her face all ablaze, 
induced by fear, indignation or pity, and, looking him in the 
face, said, " Mr. Adams, 1 think you have whipped that boy 
enough.'' " You do ? " " Yes, sir, I do. 1 ' And I, who had not 
shed a tear or flinched up to that time, broke down and cried, 
but who can "view the sheen on beauty's cheek unmoved?" 
I dried my tears and stood gazing at him, the flogger. He 
said, "Take your seat." I had no contention with him on 
that point. I took my seat. That young lady became the 
wife of James Pennell, a great shipbuilder of Brunswick, Me., 
raised a family, and has now gone to her reward, beloved 
by all. 

Now, after a period of seventy-six years, that event is as 
fresh in my mind as though it were but yesterday, and, closing 
this feeble effort to portray the character of this noble woman, 
will say in the language of Byron, 

" Green be the turf on thy tomb, 
May its verdure like emeralds be." 

The fall I was ten years of age the river had just skimmed 
over with ice. None of the boys would venture upon it, but I, 
to amuse them, would skate around so they could see it bend 
under my feet. All the large boys had gone to school and I 
skated for a few minutes to amuse two little fellows of six or 
seven, when suddenly I broke through. The water was very 
deep. I was not frightened because I could swim, but when 
I took hold of the ice to climb out it gave way it was so thin. 
The stream was running quite rapidly, taking my feet under 
the ice ; there was a mill just below with steep falls, and the ice 
growing thinner. As I approached the open space I began to 
realize the situation, but, not at all daunted, I said to the little 
boys, " You go up to the fence close by and try to pull a rail 



1 6 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

out." They tried three or four lengths before they could 
find one loose enough to pull out, and they worked manfully. 
They dragged it along, shoved it to me and it enabled me to 
get out. 

The summer I was fifteen, in August I shipped aboard the 
schooner Extra, Capt. James Bibber. She was a fine boat of 
fifty-two tons and, as the captain would boastingly say, she was 
built entirely of white oak and hackmatack. I never saw a 
vessel that could beat her on the wind, or beating to the wind- 
ward. On one occasion there was a vessel trying to pass us. 
I was a boy, but thought no one could beat me steering the 
schooner. I well remember her looks and name, the Brilliant 
of Belfast, Me. She was making her way across our stern so 
as to blanket us, or take the wind out of our sails. The old 
skipper saw at once that she would pass us. He came along, 
took the helm and, thinking I might feel badly, said, "Johnny, 
you are doing well, but she knows me, the Extra does, as you 
will soon see ; " and I did, for in a few moments she was head- 
ing up to the wind, shooting to the windward and away from 
the vessel. God bless the memory of Captain Bibber. I was 
with him two summers fishing from the Jersey Coast to the Bay 
of Chaleur, and by his teaching I saved the lives of eight of 
Portland's best citizens, together with my own. 

He taught us boys this important lesson — if we ever had 
command of a boat or ship, and saw a squall approaching, to 
be sure to take in all sails ; let it strike the bare masts, for it 
was easier to put on sail after a squall had passed than to take 
it down when the squall was upon us. Years after this I saved 
the lives of a company by carrying out this instruction, as seen 
later on. 

On March 20, 1836, I sailed from Portland, Me., in the brig 
Alfred, Capt. William Woodside of Brunswick, Me. He was 
called by sailors a severe man to sail with; he was to men who 
neglected their duty and to those who got drunk. He was kind 
to me. This was my second voyage. It was a cold, blustering 
day, late in the afternoon, when we left the harbor. We had 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD I 7 

but four able seamen, two boys, cook, captain, and mate, Mr. 
Isaac Hacker of Topsham, Me., a fine man. The second mate 
was sick and did not come aboard, and one sailor ran away. 
He is now ninety-five years of age, and the only one living, 
beside myself, of those who shipped to go that voyage. We 
were bound for Havana, Cuba. Off Cape Elizabeth, just before 
sunset, we were struck by a heavy squall. There were only 
two men fit to go aloft, because of drink, and we two boys. 
The old colored cook, Barney B. Lunnan, who was thrown 
from trie wharf into the boat, several feet below, had served in 
the old frigate Constitution in the War of 18 12, was a regular 
old salt; he was drunk in the galley and every time the ship 

rolled he ejaculated, " There she goes to h and gone and 

I hope she will never rise again." Looking at me he said, 

" Why in h didn't your mother knock you in the head when 

you were born, for then you wouldn't be here on this damned 
pirate ship." It frightened me to hear him swear. We had a 
rough passage but a quick one for those times, arriving at 
Havana in fourteen days. The next Sunday morning, while 
washing down deck, out of the galley tumbled poor Barney, the 
cook, drunk as a lord. A boat that supplied the sailors with 
fruit and liquors had smuggled rum on board and the cook had 
bought it ; whenever he had it he got drunk. The captain saw 
him, grasped a bucket of water and threw it over him. He 

looked at the captain and said, " You have done a d sight." 

At that the captain, a quick-tempered man, threw the bucket 
and struck the cook over his eye, cutting a gash that made the 
blood flow freely, and knocked him down. We put him in the 
galley. I got some water and was washing the blood from 
the poor man's face, when the captain came along and said, 
" What are you doing there ? Let the nigger wash his own face, 
and you attend to your own business." Of course I obeyed the 
order, and dropped a tear of pity for the poor wounded man. 
The captain thought it degrading for a white man to wash a 
negro's face, for at that time neither he nor I had yet learned 
that the spirit of the kingdom is that of a child. And many 



1 8 SKETCH OF/THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

a time since have I thought of the immortal Shakespeare's 
beautiful words : 

" How far that little candle throws its beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world." 

I was well repaid for the deed in material things, to say nothing 
of the spiritual, for after that I would find in the long boat that 
was on deck a sweet morsel of cake or pie from the officers' 
table ; we sailors had no luxuries in those days, nothing but 
what we called hard-tack — no soft bread at that time aboard 
of any ship. 

The first night out the crew, most of them under the influence 
of liquor, insisted that I should drink with them, but I said, 
"No rum for me," and they were offended and threatened me ; 
said I need not put on temperance airs, that I was no better 
than they, and I must drink with them ; I would never become 
a sailor unless I did, for they would not teach me or show me 
one thing while I was aboard with them. One old sailor 
grabbed me to pour some rum down my throat, but he made 
slow headway as he was too drunk to more than stand, and I 
threw him. He got up and drew back to strike me. At that 
moment one of the men, a large, stout man and a thorough 
sailor, stepped in front of him and said: "Don't strike that boy, 
All", if you do you will have trouble with me ; he threw you 
fairly, and then let you up like a man when he could have 
kicked your head off. You let him alone. Now I will ask the 
boy why he won't drink, for that is a breach of politeness to 
refuse to drink with us aboard ship." He was a well-informed 
man and the ship's carpenter. I told him that my mother had 
instructed me never to touch a drop of liquor, for it was the 
first glass that made the drunkard, and she would rather see me 
a corpse at her feet than to see me drunk. That was the turn- 
ing point of the drink habit and ended the episode, for when 
the mother is introduced a sailor heaves to, that is, he stops ; 
and they were just mellow enough with drink to be tender. 
When I got through with the story of my mother's teaching the 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 1 9 

old salts were wiping the tears from their eyes with their shirt 
sleeves. For a moment silence reigned supreme. At last the 
ship's carpenter said : " Now, boys, it must be understood by 
you all that the first one who asks that boy to drink aboard 
this ship will have trouble with me, for he is man enough to 
obey his mother's teachings, and had we done the same we 
would be in the other end of this ship ; it is nothing but the 

d rum that has kept us from the cabin and placed us in 

the forecastle." After that I was treated most kindly by all and 
not one ever asked me to drink with them again. So much for 
the teaching of a Christian mother, who had told me of the 
wretchedness of a drunkard's home as pictured by the poet : 

"LITTLE MOTHER." 

BY B. M. BROWN. 

'Twas a dreary, old, desolate hovel, 

That seemed to shrink away 
In a dismal place of hiding, 

Ashamed of the light of day ; 
In the heart of a mighty city, 

In shadow of spire and dome, 
Like a guilty thing of darkness, 

And this was the drunkard's home. 

Rags were stuffed in each crevice 

And broken window-pane, 
In a hopeless, sad endeavor 

To keep out the wind and rain. 
And the inmates suffered and shivered 

In a desperate kind of dread, 
Waiting and watching for father, 

Without any wood or bread. 

One of them sat by the window, 

With a sad and tearful eye, 
Starting at every footstep, 

Watching the passers-by 
With a haggard look of sorrow, 

And sad eyes staring wild — 
A lonely, desolate martyr, 

The drunkard's poor little child. 



20 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

'Twas late at night, and watching 

Had made her weary and pale, 
While she told her little sister 

Many a pleasant tale. 
Of the little ones the kindest 

And tenderest care she took, 
And closer they nestled to her 

With a scared and hungry look. 

She was only twelve — You doubt it ? 

She looked so old and worn, 
Like a little, old-fashioned spirit, 

And never a baby born ! 
Only two other children 

To care for night and day, 
And they called her Little Mother, 

She had such a motherly way. 

She'd taken care of the children 

Since her mother staggered and reeled 
Into death's awful darkness, 

And was borne to the Potter's Field. 
How hard she had w T orked and struggled, 

How much she suffered and bore ! 
Keeping soul and body together, 

Begging from door to door. 

Only three desolate children, 

Three little girls — enough 
To suffer a slow starvation 

And the cold world's stern rebuff. 
They shrunk from a human presence 

As a harbinger of woe, 
They had never known any greeting 

But a drunken curse or blow ! 

Had they pretty names ? What matter 

About a beggar's name 
Who skulked in poverty's darkness 

Under the shadow of shame? 
No one spoke kindly to them, 

And no one dared to tell 
Of Millie, the Little Mother, 

And Bessie and Baby Nell. 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 2 I 

But now they heard a footstep, 

A heavy, uncertain tread. 
They know that father is coming, 

With a sense of fright and dread. 
He's coming nearer and nearer, 

He staggers, clutches the door, 
And tumbles into the hovel, 

Sprawling onto the floor. 

And there he laid in his anger, 

Cursing with every breath, 
Like a fiend from the pit of darkness 

On a raid of ruin and death ; 
Covered with filth from the gutter, 

Where he'd wallowed like a pig, 
His stomach full of whiskey, 

And his brain in a whirligig. 

But brave was Little Mother, 

Her duty stern and stark, 
And, while her sisters trembled 

And crept into the dark, 
She sprang to assist her father, 

And helped the brute to crawl 
To the side of the room — he struggled, 

And rose by clutching the wall. 

And when he turned in his fury, 

While his eyes like a madman's glow — 
In a moment she is bleeding, 

Struck down by a fearful blow, 
Let the angels hide their faces, 

And demons shudder with blame, 
And all of the whiskey kings 

In the nation blush with shame. 

By the force of the blow the monster 

Fell again to the floor, 
Where his drunken sleep was broken 

By only a curse or a snore. 
And there he lay, unconscious 

That his hand now bore the stain 
Of the precious blood of the innocent, 

And his brow the brand of Cain ! 



2 2 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

Did sadness darken the pleasure 

Of the shining hosts who dwell 
In the light of love eternal 

For Bessie and Baby Nell ? 
For Little Mother was crying, 

And never would they share 
Again her love so earnest, 

Or know her tender care. 

Her starved life in the darkness 

Faded and died away 
Like a shadow, creeping heavenward, 

Between the night and the day. 
Her limbs grew stiff and rigid, 

Her face was white and cold, 
And another lamb in the morning 

Was found in the Shepherd's fold. 

I never heard my father speak a cross word in his family. 
In 1837 he moved from Brunswick to Bath. I was at home 
part of the time during the summers and helped him on the 
farm, then known as the Pettengill or Waldron, now the 
McCutcheon farm, on the banks of the Kennebec. There, in 
August, 1839, m y oldest brother passed away. It was the 
hardest blow I had ever received. 

October 23, I sailed for St. Marks, Florida, from Bath. I 
went to Tallahassee, twenty-eight miles from St. Marks, and 
spent the winter there. Arriving home in the summer of 1840 
I went to work at the blacksmith's trade with Jacob Knowlton. 
Two years later I bought his shop and tools and, with Sewall 
Ham as partner, carried on the business successfully for two 
years. I sold out and went to work at the hairdressing busi- 
ness. That was in 1844, and I spent seven as happy years as 
I ever lived in the town, now city of Bath. 

At seventeen years of age I commenced my active work 
against all kinds of slavery, and especially against the slavery 
of dissipation with rum and tobacco. I had signed the pledge 
of 1829, or rather, my mother wrote my name and I made my 
cross, for I was but eight years of age, and backward at that, 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 23 

and could not write. I am perhaps the only man in the State 
of Maine whose name is on all three of the temperance pledges, 
of 1829, 1840, and the Sons of Temperance, and others of 
recent date. A few years ago, on the ninetieth birthday of the 
late General Neal Dow, I was invited by the president of 
the Bath Temperance Society to be present at the celebration 
of the great leader's anniversary. I declined, as it was almost 
impossible for me to attend, but after receiving three letters 
informing me that I was the only man living they knew 
of, whose name was on all three of the pledges and earnestly 
requesting me to be present, I consented to do so. I was the 
missing link so much sought after. Of the signers of the 
pledge of 1840 there were none in Bath then living. General 
Dow gave me a letter to the Bath president, a lady whom I well 
knew in her early childhood, having been an intimate friend of 
her father, Mr. Stephen Sawyer, but she had married a gentle- 
man whose name I did not know. When I arrived there I 
needed no introduction for they all knew me, and I was highly 
entertained. The following is a copy of the pledge of 1840, 
with the names of those who signed it ; they were all earnest 
workers at that time in the cause of temperance in Bath : 

THE PREAMBLE. 

Whereas, the Demon of Intemperance, the withering influence of whose 
pestilential breath is at present felt in all classes of society, prostrating 
their energies and brutalizing many who are otherwise capable of becoming 
its most useful members, thereby rendering them a burden to themselves, 
their families and community; and, whereas the public good and the inter- 
est of our beloved country demand of us as the friends of temperance a 
vigorous and well directed effort, an untiring and determined resolution to 
do all in our power for the suppression of this vice, the pernicious influence 
of which is at present the destroyer of the happiness of thousands of its 
unfortunate victims, therefore, Resolved, 

1. That there w T as no advantage in drinking, but that the practice was 
disadvantageous instead. 

2. That persuasion should be employed with drinkers to abstain. 

3. That whoever drank rum, gin, brandy, whiskey, wine, or even cider 



24 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 



or beer in any quantity drank too much, and members should expostulate 
with such persons whenever an opportunity presented. 

4. That it was a duty for every member to persuade those engaged in 
the sale of ardent spirits to renounce it altogether. 

5. That those who sold ardent spirits in shops for tippling therein or to 
be carried away and drank should be blamed as much as wholesale dealers 
and inn holders. 

6. That efforts should be persisted in looking to the stopping of the 
importation of liquor. 

7. That all who had been in the habit of drinking ardent spirits within 
the past six months should be invited to become members. 

THE PLEDGE. 

We, the undersigned, members of the Washington Teetotal Society of 
Bath, Maine, believing it to be a duty we owe to ourselves and families and 
to society do hereby promise and pledge our sacred word and honor that 
we will from this time henceforth and forever abstain from drinking any 
kind of spirituous, vinous, or fermented liquors of every kind and descrip- 
tion whatever, as a beverage. 



William Ede 
Jesse Duston 
James H. Nichols 
Samuel Crowell 
John P. Flint 
Wm. S. Pettengill 
Samuel C. Borey 
Wm. Winslow 2nd 
Joshua Emmons 
Henry E. Jenks 
Adriel Gray 
John N. Smith 
Aaron Mons 
Benjamin Fogg 
Hiram Turner 
Benj. Davenport 
Levi Chadbourn 
Abner M. Dunham 
Chas. Southerland 
James McAvry 
Jotham W. Rogers 
Waldron Leavitt 



Jesse Mitchell 
Hiram H. Bowles 
Chas. Green 
Thomas J. Tucker 
Augustus F. Winslow 
Sam'l G. Stinson 
Sam'l Parker 
Robert Curtis 
Alfred Hilling 
Allen L. Shaw 
Abel Chadsey 
Geo. Vaughn 
Sargent Bolden 
Warren Mains 
A. L. Stinson 
David W. Standish 
John B. Hodgdon 
Asa Bradley 
John Bisbee 
Thomas Larry 
Thomas R. Bradford 
Wm. S. Emmons 



John Weeks 
Chas. C. Lee 
Samuel Tibbetts 
Nath'l Longley 
John Mitchell 
Josh. P. Lemont 
Geo. Hutchins 
Matthew Skolfield 
B. T. Currier 
John Parshley 2nd 
Edmund C. Allen 
Isaac Crooker 
Joshua S. Clark 
Rob't Staple 
Peter Clogy 
Joseph Currier 
John Foote 
Wm. Matthews 
John W. Briggs 
James R. Hinkley 
Lewis Stilfin 
Henry E. Morrell 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 



25 



John Fossett 
Concider Brown 
Richard B. Tobie 
Uriah Hamilton 
Wm. Hackett 
John Clayton 
John M. Todd 
Z. T. Hubbard 
Wm. Banks 
Wm. Hodgdon 
Benj. Willis 
Joseph Hayes 
Rufus Stinson 
Caleb Mitchell 2nd 
Baldwin Parshley 
Converse O. Hogdon 
Lorenzo D. Newell 
John Young 
David Purrington 
Henry York 
Stephen C. Sawyer 
William Moore 
Jesse Totman 
Joseph Remmick 
Wm. Larry 
F. A. Newcomb 
Q. S. Griffith 
John D. Watchman 
Fredrick Lincoln 
Chas. W. Jackson 
Geo. Colson 
Peter Knight 
Randall Church Jr. 
Joseph C. Bradford 
Nath'l Jennings 
Nelson Patridge 
Ezekiel Studley 



Wm. Nelson 
Eben Colson 2d 
Mathano Parshley 
John E. Brown 
Benj. Stinson 
John Whitney 
Stephen T. Berry 
Waldron Mars 
Edward Law 
Wm. Thornton 
Sam'l Whitmore 
Stephen B. Penny 
Thomas Bowles 
Jesse H. Dustan 
A. T. Denison 
Hiram Crooker 
Daniel B. Ward 
Eben Colson 
Philip Keenan 
James Howes 
C. A. Brown 
Edward Higgens 
Wm. H. Harrison 
William Sally 
David Owen 
James S. Bennett 
Robert G. Soule 
Wm. J. Crawford 
Job Scott Donnell 
Josiah D. Haley 
Albert Parshley 
Jackson Maines 
George Barton 
Abner McFadden 
Benj. McGill 
Washburn Calden 
James Couliard 



Samuel Preston 
Stephen Crooker 
John A. Jackson 
Samuel Anderson 
Stephen Haynes 
Edward Colby 
James G. Crawford 
Wm. Greenleaf 
James Roache 
Jacob Knowlton 
John Beals 2nd 
William Brown 
John Grace 
Humphrey Aulens 
Felix McGorden 
Thomas R. Smith 
Fobes Turner 
John B. Trull 
Wm. Winslow 
John B. Morrison 
John Webb 
Wm. H. Noble 
Benj. Remmick 
Hiram Gorham 
John Thomas 
James Wakefield 
Hiram Tibbetts 
John T. Woimwood 
Orin Bowman 
Allen Gatchell 
Wm. S. Robbins 
John Gooch 
Richard Blinn 
Ephriam Pinkham 
David H. Densmore 
Andrew Mann 



Had I read the following poem before I commenced to reform 
the world and lead it into the true path of righteousness, temper- 
ance and judgment to come, I fear I should have been discour- 
aged and given up the task ; but as Pope says, " Fools rush in 



2 6 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

where angels fear to tread," and if an apology is needed, let 
that be mine : 

" If thou wouldst win a lasting fame, 

If thou the immortal wreath wouldst claim, 

And make the future bless thy name, 

Begin thy perilous career. 

Keep high thy heart, thy conscience clear, 

And walk thy way without a fear; 

And if thou hast a voice within 

That ever whispers, ' Work and win,' 

And keep thy heart from sloth and sin ; 

If thou canst plan a noble deed, 

And never flag till it succeed, 

Though in the strife thy heart shouldst bleed ; 

If thou canst struggle day and night, 

And, in the envious world's despite, 

Still keep thy cynosure in sight; 

If thou canst bear the rich man's scorn, 

Nor curse the day that thou wert born, 

To feed on husks, and he on corn ; 

If thou canst dine upon a crust, 

And still hold on with patient trust, 

Nor pine that Fortune is unjust; 

If thou canst see with tranquil breast, 

The knave or fool in purple drest 

Whilst thou must walk in tattered vest ; 

If thou canst rise ere break of day 

And toil and moil till evening gray 

At thankless work for scanty pay ; 

If. in thy progress to renown, 

Thou canst endure the scoff and frown 

Of those who try to put thee down ; 

If thou canst bear the averted face, 

The gibe and treacherous embrace 

Of those who run the selfsame race; 

If thou in darkest days canst find 

An inner brightness in thy mind 

To reconcile thee to thy kind; — 

Whatever obstacle control, 

Thine hour will come, — go on true soul! 

Thou'lt win the prize, thou'lt reach the goal. 

If not, what matter ? Tried by fire, 



SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 27 

Thy spirit shall but soar the higher. 
Content and hope thy heart shall buoy, 
And man's neglect shall ne'er destroy 
The inward peace, the secret joy." 

The first vote for president I ever gave was for Birney, the 
Abolitionist candidate, in November, 1844. I left Bath in 
December of that year, and came to Portland, where I went to 
work at the hairdressing business with Mr. Charles E. Bennett, 
who later on went to Chicago and there passed away a few 
years ago. The 10th of October, 1845, I opened a hairdress- 
ing room in the Boyd Block, corner of Middle and Exchange 
streets, and remained there until December, 1893, a period of 
forty-eight years and two months, and then moved to Temple 
street. I am now doing business at the corner of Middle and 
Temple streets. I have built houses in Portland that cost me 
$30,000 ; they are all standing at the present time, and I don't 
own one shingle on them and am glad of it, "for it was so 
pleasant to see riches take wings unto themselves and fly 
away," but thank heaven, they left me healthy and happy. 

I was married in March, 1845, to Miss Frances J. Blake of 
Portland, and a most worthy and beautiful woman she proved 
herself to be. I have often wondered why she married me, for 
I possessed neither wealth nor beauty. There is one reason, 
perhaps, she was too young to know better, as she was not 
quite seventeen years old, and at twenty the mother of two 
boys ; we had four children, three boys and a girl. We lived 
together forty-three years, when she passed to a higher life on 
May 17, 1888, where, no doubt, she has found a happier home 
and more favorable conditions, for while here she toiled and 
lived for her family and others, sacrificing herself for their good. 



I thank thee, Life, for many, many gifts: 
For wealth of bloom and tender song that lifts 
My life the heated highway's path above ; 
But most of all I thank thee, Life, for Love ! 



28 SKETCH OF THE LIFE OF JOHN M. TODD 

I thank thee for the body's health ; for friends ; 
The daily bread thy kindly bounty sends; 
For all the goodly things that are or were; 
But most of all I thank thee, Life, for Her! 

For Her I count of good thine utter store 
That surfeits avarice. Thou hast no more, 
No boon to win one covert sigh from me 
When I have that whose giving beggars thee. 



INSPIRATION. 

BY THE REV. BURT ESTES HOWARD. 
(From the Los Angeles Graphic, September 30, 1905.) 

It has been the misfortune of the words " inspiration " and 
"revelation" that they have been given a wholly theological 
content. To narrow the idea of inspiration to some abnormal 
state of the mind in a past age, whereby men were acted upon 
from without by some strange spirit operating outside the realm 
of natural law, for the purpose of laying down specific rules of 
practice ; in short, to confine inspiration to any period of time, 
or to any set of men, or to any book or books, is to defraud the 
idea of its rightful due and divest it of its larger power in and 
on human life. It is a big word, this word "inspiration," and 
must be given a definition commensurate with its bigness. 
There is a mighty truth at the heart of it which the world can- 
not afford to lose sight of. 

Inspiration is not the coming of a new spirit into the affairs 
of men. It is not the breaking of the orderly and natural way 
of doing things, by an external, supernatural, transcendent God, 
to reveal himself and his truth to men by erratic and abnormal 
means. It is just the perception of the eternal spirit of truth 
which has been in the world from the beginning. There is a 
true light which lighteth every man coming into the world. Not 
all men see it. But to them to whom the vision appears, it 
comes through no strange process, but by the unfolding of the 
moral and rational perception. Inspiration is a thing of spirit- 
ual and intellectual insight. It is having eyes to see and ears 
to hear what is going on in God's world. The inspired man is 
the man with mind and soul great enough and crystal-clear 
enough to see beyond the little catch-penny world that we 
create out of our own selfishness and materialism into the awful 
truth of things. It is of small moment what kind of truth it is 
that he sees. It is all God's truth; and the man who finds a 



3<D INSPIRATION 

bit of it somewhere and opens his life to it, who takes his little 
fragment of divine news and tries to tell it honestly to his 
brethren, is one of the inspired prophets of the Almighty. It 
may be an Isaiah, reading God's message in the faces of men, 
or spelling out a divine word from the confused voices of his 
age ; it may be a Scottish plowboy, with the poet's soul, uproot- 
ing a mountain daisy as he lays off the furrow, finding a gospel 
tangled in the torn roots of the flower and singing an immortal 
song about it ; it may be the lad who hears God's whisper in 
the steam as he listens to the kettle crooning its old-fashioned 
melody, swinging there on the sooty crane, or the grimy 
mechanic, who sees, in the midst of clanging hammers and 
whirring spindles and hissing valves, a vision of some device 
that shall cheapen necessities and make life more tolerable for 
earth's millions ; it may be the patient thinker, in the hush of 
his study, forging upon the anvil of logic a great thought that 
shall make men better and the world a holier place — all, all are 
inspired men and the instruments of God's spirit of wisdom. 

For inspiration is independent of the kind of truth perceived 
or revealed. There is no warrant for filching the halo from 
any truth. All truth is divine truth, though not all truth is 
ecclesiastical or biblical. To run lines of cleavage splitting 
God's truth in twain, calling this secular and that divine, is a 
violation of fundamental fact and intellectual treason against 
the moral order of the universe. There is no secular in a world 
full of God. 

Further, inspiration is not the sacred monopoly of any litera- 
ture or of any corporation. It is the heritage of the race. 
Galileo, Copernicus, Keppler, and the long list of those who 
have been peering into the mysteries of nature are as truly 
inspired men as Moses or David or Isaiah. The true poets are 
also true prophets, and the artists and musicians who are seek- 
ing to utter their visions of beauty or to express in rhythmic 
harmonies the melodies that are singing in their souls are 
ministers of the One Universal Spirit whom men call God. 
More than this, the humble soul that is living its bit of a life 



INSPIRATION 31 

under the spell of some dream of a higher truth of things, living 
its little days grandly, bringing into the pettiness of its oppor- 
tunity and the monotony of its treadmill routine some fragment 
of a divine largeness and dignity, is a soul more truly inspired 
than any earthly being that which makes the best men. The 
value of a religion lies neither in its forms, its sacred literature, 
nor in its organization, but in its moral dynamics. Christianity 
is not the only religion worthy of a man's thought, nor is it the 
only "divinely inspired" religion. The religions of men keep 
pace with their expanding spiritual capacities. All religions 
have in them the seeds of divine truth, and, for their time and 
for their people, they are divine forces, divine inspirations. I 
do not maintain that one is as good as another. Each is to be 
rated according to its lifting power. All have their place in 
the moral evolution of the race. The great end of religion is 
the same no matter what form it may assume. In the develop- 
ment of a true, fine manhood, God is using all religions and all 
bibles. Neither divineness nor inspiration can be denied to 
any one of them that is tugging at the people who hold it to lift 
them to a little higher conception of things. All of them are 
reaching after the same God. It makes little difference by 
what name they call him. Great facts are indifferent to the 
labels we put on them. God is not baptized into any form of 
faith. No time or people can persuade the Almighty to take 
up his exclusive abode in its literature or in its ecclesiastical 
corporation. The true inspiration does not lie in a book written 
for all time, or in a society organized for all time, but in the 
living souls of the living men of any time. God's inspired book 
that he is writing in the world is never finished. It is not 
penned on parchment in a tongue that is dead. It is a Book 
of Life. And the words are spelled out of the flesh and blood 
of men. The true inspiration is the anointing with insight that 
touches the eyes of those who love the Truth and watch eagerly 
for her coming. It is a vision of the verities of which all 
Nature is but a symbol and all life but an opportunity for utter- 
ance. The inspired man is the man who sees, and whether the 



32 INSPIRATION 

truth he sees is a gleam of light through science, or economics, 
or politics, or business, or any one of the many sides of life, it 
is a bit of the One Eternal Truth shining out of different win- 
dows. Truth is all one, but the eye that apprehends it varies. 



SPIRITUALISM. 

" Those who have ears to hear, let them hear." 

In 1842, in the town of Bath where I lived and learned the 
trade of shoeing horses and carriage work, and for two years, 
under the firm name of Todd & Ham, carried on that business, 
mesmerism (named after Mesmer, a Frenchman, who discov- 
ered it a few years before), now called hypnotism, at that time 
was attracting much attention. There was a young lady there 
who was a fine subject and I could easily mesmerize her. When 
in that state of mind I could take her a hundred miles away and 
she would tell all that was transpiring there, describe who were 
there and what they were doing. If I went in any part of the 
house, cellar or attic, put salt or sugar in my mouth, she would 
taste it as soon as I would. We were tested in every way, and 
were accused of deception, but we never thought or practiced it 
as we had no occasion to do so. 

I came to Portland in 1844. I n 1848, when the Rochester 
knocking or spirit rappings occurred, I took no notice of it. I 
had become agnostic, had spent much time over commentaries 
and found out what the poet Pope meant when he wrote, "Who 
shall decide when doctors disagree ? " So I dropped mad 
opinion and went to living the true life, for the true life is the 
eternal life, for truth is eternal. 

One day, in 1850, Captain Littlejohn, a brother sceptic, called 
upon me and said, "Todd, I want you to go with me to see a 
medium who lives on Smith street, for I was knocked out in 
the first circle, and I came to you because you do not believe 
in this superstition called religion." I said, " What have you 
run against now, Captain?" "I don't know, but I reckon the 
devil or someone else will tell us. A few years ago, I lost a 
man overboard ; he was a Swede and spoke very poor English. 
As I entered the door I said to the husband of the medium, ' I 
don't care to have you know my name.' ' W T e don't want to 



34 SPIRITUALISM 

know it ; we can find that out soon enough.' I took a seat at 
the table. In a few minutes she was entranced and, reaching 
out her hand to me, and in broken English in the very voice of 
the sailor, said, ' How are you, Captain Littlejohn ? ' I said, 
'Who are you?' 'You know,' was the reply. 'No, I don't,' 
said I. The medium threw her arms over her head and, in the 
same broken English, said, ' For God's sake, Captain, save me ! ' 
and those were the very words the sailor uttered when I threw 
him a rope as the ship passed him, and he missed catching it. 
John, I am puzzled." I laughed at him and told him of my 
Bath experience in mesmerism. " She only read your mind, 
that is all. That does not satisfy me. I want you to go with 
me to see her." "No, I won't," I said; "I have no time to 
fool away, and if I went I should want to go alone." 

Soon after that, one night in a terrible storm and dark as 
pitch, I started to see the medium. It was such a night a child 
might understand the devil had business on his hands, as 
Robert Burns said. I knocked at the door; a tall, gaunt man, 
six feet three inches in height, stood looking at me. I was 
speechless for a minute and didn't know what to say. Finally, 
I said, " Is this the house where they entertain ghosts ? " He 
laughed and replied, "Yes, come in." I said, " I don't wish to 
give my name." "We don't wish to know your name, we can 
get it quick enough." He led the way to the sittingroom, and 
there sat a woman of sixty or sixty-five years of age, and of very 
pleasant appearance. She smiled and said, "I don't care to 
know your name." I took a seat opposite her. Soon the table 
began to move and loud raps were heard. I was greatly inter- 
ested, moved back from the table and looked under it. She 
went into a trance, took a pencil from the table and wrote " John 
Todd." The husband spoke and said, "A spirit friend of 
yours." I, to mislead them, said, "That is my name." He 
said, "That is it? That is all right then." She threw the 
pencil upon the table with some violence and, with her eyes 
closed, turned her head as though she was scanning my every 
feature and thought, took the pencil from the table and wrote 



SPIRITUALISM 35 

under the words "John Todd" the words "John M. Todd." 
She looked at me sternly and said, " John, whose name is 
that?" pointing at the John M. Todd. I replied, "That is 
mine." "Well, whose was that?" pointing at the other name. 
"That was my father's." " John, deal honestly with the medium 
and I will convince you that I live, and that there is a life after 
what you call death." I began to question him of my child- 
hood experiences and conversations I had had with him when 
young. He seemed to remember all. Then I began to ques- 
tion him on theology and about what he had learned over there. 
He said he had not been there long enough to have learned 
much, and while on the earth he had not made theology a 
study ; the passage over Jordan had taught' him but little, and 
that I had read much more upon that subject than he, but if 
the medium was willing he would bring a spirit who would give 
me the information I wished. 1 made an appointment with the 
woman to meet her at two o'clock. I was there. The medium 
was entranced, and the controlling influence purported to be 
William Elridge Channing, the great Unitarian preacher. I 
commenced to question him, and every question I had ever 
asked in early life of clergymen was answered. He did not 
put me off with "You must not ask such questions," as I had 
often been told by ministers, but he encouraged me to ask 
many, and every one I asked was answered. I said to father, 
" If this is true that you have survived the shock of death, I 
must take up the Bible again, and I cannot do that." I had 
been fighting it so long that I did not see how I could accept 
its teachings. He replied, "Not necessarily, for you are in no 
condition to be benefited by so doing. Do you fully realize, 
John, that there is no one in this city, who has used the word 
orthodox bigot for years as often as yourself, and are you aware 
that there is no greater bigot in Fortland than you are? For a 
man can be as bigoted in his negation as in his belief." 

Six months after that event, while talking with him, he called 
my attention to what I said in regard to my accepting the teach- 
ings of the Bible. " I want you, when you go home to-night, 



36 SPIRITUALISM 

to read from the Bible, 1 Corinthians, 12th chapter, where Paul 
wrote of spiritual gifts. He speaks of the discerning of spirits, 
healing by the spirits speaking with other tongues, and other 
gifts that we spiritualists believe in and practice." I went 
home and read it. My prejudice had left me ; I have studied 
the book much since and, from Genesis to Revelations it teaches 
that spirits return. As Charles Beecher said at the advent of 
modern spiritualism: "It is no use to deny the facts of spirit- 
ualism, for it is a Bible doctrine. The Bible is full of it. We 
should preach and teach that it is the work of the devil, that 
will frighten the people away from it." Another proof that 
ignorance alone enslaves, for were not the people ignorant they 
would not fear the devil or any of his imps. I was taught to 
face the devil and he would nee from me. I found it so, but 
you must have the faith that Christian had when he faced old 
Apollyon, according to Bunyan. 

On one occasion Postmaster Dunn came in to see me. I was 
feeling rather cast down, business was dull, and I was heavily 
in debt. I said, " I must give up my research of spiritualism. 
I cannot afford to spend so much time and money as I have 
been doing. I must devote myself to the support of my family 
and to the payment of my debts." After Mr. Dunn left I 
thought I would go once more to see a medium and then give 
it up, at least for the present. I called upon the medium and 
we sat down at the table to get communication. In a few 
minutes the door bell rang and she went to the door. As soon 
as she left the table the raps came and the table commenced 
moving rapidly. I never had a table move for me before, nor 
any other physical manifestation without the help of a medium, 
and I have never had one since. She returned, and I said to 
her, " Go into the other room, for I am getting the manifesta- 
tions under my own hands." I took the alphabet that was on 
the table for that purpose, and I had written for me thirty-two 
pages in that manner, and if I wrote a word or letter that was 
not right the table would not cease shaking until I went over 
the alphabet again and corrected it. The controlling spirit 



SPIRITUALISM 37 

purported to be my father. He told me the conversation I just 
had with Mr. Dunn at my shop, told me that I could not for- 
sake nor abandon spiritualism, that from my childhood the 
spirits had stood by me and often directed my steps, and saved 
me from evil, and henceforth I must and will do all in my power, 
to aid them, to forward the cause of the truth of spirit return and 
thereby strengthen the belief in the continuity of life that the 
world is so much in need of. " Now I have a word to say to 
you in regard to your financial condition. We have heard your 
complaining and have often pitied you, 'O, ye of little faith.' 
We know that, from your point of view, the struggle seems hard, 
but, my dear son, you have always had a bed to sleep on and 
food to eat; you have never put your children to bed feeling 
that they had retired with scanty food, as I have mine — no, nor 
you never will. But you were born a sceptic and a doubter- 
We have held a consultation and have examined into your case, 
and have resolved to relieve you. We see you are sinking 
under your load, and in your state of mind, had you been in 
Job's place, you would have taken his wife's advice and cursed 
God and died. ' Then said his wife unto him, Dost thou still 
retain thine integrity? Curse God and die.' Job 2: 92. O 
my son, I wish you could walk by faith through this valley of 
sorrow, but we see you cannot, for you have not yet learned the 
power and great glory of faith." I said, "If this is my father 
speaking, or whatever the power may be, all I can say is, I 
cannot believe that it is in your power to relieve me from my 
financial embarrassment, though an angel declared it unto me." 
He wrote in answer, "Wait and see." In eighteen months from 
that time I had paid two thousand dollars of old debts, most of 
them outlawed. 

One day my landlord, Mr. Boyd, came in to see me and said) 
" John, I have a compliment for you. I was at a large party 
last evening on State street, where some of the best people in 
the city were in attendance. You were spoken of by a gentle- 
man of wealth. He said you had paid him several hundred 
dollars in outlawed debts, at which they expressed surprise. I 



3$ SPIRITUALISM 

said, 'That is what I should have expected of him.'" That 
compliment gave my modesty a slight twitch and, partly to hide 
its effect, I said, " Mr. Boyd, I am surprised that you keep such 
company." "What do you mean, John? They were of the 
best people in the city." "I hardly think that possible, for it 
appears to me that the best people would have a higher estimate 
of honesty than to express surprise that a man had paid his 
honest debts when able. They may have great reputations, 
but is that always character?" He smiled and said, "I fear 
there is too much truth in your suggestion." But to my story. 
I fear that these everlasting digressions that I indulge in are 
not in good taste. Besides paying my debts I had over a thou- 
sand dollars in the bank. But the reader will inquire how I 
made money so fast. I will tell you, for truth never shuns the 
light, seeks no panoply, courts inquiry and answers every honest 
question. A gentleman from out of the city, and a man of 
large fortune, came to me and said, " For weeks past I could 
not get you out of my mind. I don't understand it, for you 
have never done any business for me. 1 have a business to do 
and I want you to do it. I will deposit four thousand dollars 
in the Mechanics Bank, President Allen Haines, for you to use, 
and I want you to attend to it at once. I am going over to 
leave the money now, and I shall tell Mr. Haines to let you 
draw upon it as you wish." I replied, "I know nothing about 
the business, and I shall lose your money ; I won't touch it. 
I never could keep my own money, and I won't be able to keep 
yours." He left the money for me, and I did not touch it. A 
week went by. He called and said, " Have you done as I 
wished you to ?" "No, I have not dared to." "You go and 
do as I wished. I will risk it." Another week went by and 
he called again and said, "John, you are foolish in not doing as 
I wished you to. Now, if you do not, I shall have to get some 
one else, for the business must be attended to." I saw Mr. 
Haines, the president of the bank. He advised me to go 
ahead. I took hold of the job, and the first three days I made 
$200.00. That gave me courage. I kept on, and in eighteen 



SPIRITUALISM 39 

months cleared $30,000.00. Through the influence of Mr. 
William E. Wood, the broker, the father of our genial William 
H. Wood, Esq., I invested my money in United States five- 
twenty bonds. 

After the great fire of 1866, that destroyed one-third of the 
city, I caught the fever that was raging here to help build the 
city anew. I built houses that cost me $30,000; they shrank 
in value about one-half, and I fooled away and was cheated out 
of the balance, so now I don't own a shingle in one of them to 
bother me. I have written the last few lines to please myself. 
Now, if you will but heed what I write, you will receive a bless- 
ing and a pearl of great price. My father came to me, mind 
you, from the spirit world. This was before I lost my property, 
recollect. It was at a spiritual circle, and he said, "John, we 
are about to strip you of every dollar you possess." My knees 
began to shake, as did Saul's when the woman medium of 
Endor read 1 Samuel, 28 : 7-18, when she told him his kingdom 
should be taken from him. "But, my son, you will not feel as 
you did when you told your friend Dunn you were about to 
abandon spiritualism, when your faith was waning and you were 
about ready to sink. Then we reached forth a helping hand 
and placed you upon your feet. Now, you know we can help 
you, and you will not mourn your loss and will walk by faith, 
nothing doubting." And I have seen my houses and land 
pass away from me, my wife and children depart, but my faith 
remains unshaken, often cast down but not destroyed, 2 Cor- 
inthians. 4: 9. From that day to this, I have never seen the 
time that I have wished to have my houses back. I write with 
due consideration, well knowing that many will laugh at such a 
suggestion, but it is true. I have never thought of it without a 
feeling of disgust, and felt glad it had taken unto itself wings 
and flown away, for I well know its tendency was to drag me 
down and hinder my march to the higher life, so you see why I 
can walk by faith and not by sight. 

I was invited to attend a materializing circle, that is, where 
the spirits of our departed ones are said to return and make 



4-0 SPIRITUALISM 

themselves visible to mortals. It was at the home of Mr. George 
Blake, son of the late Charles Blake, of the firm of Blake & 
Jones, flour dealers. Charles Irving Blake, the son of George 
Blake, is the only one that I know of who was present now 
living in this city. He and I are willing to testify, under oath, 
to what we saw on that occasion. The materializing medium, 
so called, was a young man, a Mr. Bastion. Before he went into 
the improvised closet, with no door or window in its rear, no w r ay 
to get in or out except from the room we were all sitting in, 1 
had examined him thoroughly. The company consisted of 
about sixteen people, and some of the smartest men in the city. 
All could be seen, the room was so light we could see to read. 
There was a gentleman present, a stranger, and a delegate to 
the United States Medical Convention that was being held here 
at that time. I learned later that he was Dr. Walker from New 
Orleans. Mind you, I had searched this medium from head to 
foot, turned every pocket. I know there was no clothing about 
him except the suit he wore, and there were eight or ten per- 
sons, men, women and children, who appeared, or, as we spirit- 
ualists would say, materialized, all in different apparel as 
became age and sex. 

After several spirits had materialized there was one appeared 
whom anyone would have taken for a clergyman of the old 
school, with a standup collar and white cravate, black coat and 
pants, and the bearing of one who was accustomed to meet 
public audiences. He glanced at me. I said, " Do you wish 
to speak to me ? " He looked again with an expression on his 
face that I interpreted as a look of contempt, and as much as 
to say, "You mind your own business and I will mine." Dr. 
Walker said it was an uncle of his, a Baptist minister, who used 
to preach at Albany, N. Y. The doctor said that before leaving 
New Orleans to come to Portland, he was told by a medium 
that he would receive a great test, but he had no thought that 
he should meet one of his own family face to face, as he then 
knew that materialized spirit was no other than his favorite 
uncle who loved him dearly and was with him so often in his 



SPIRITUALISM 4 I 

childhood. Then my father appeared. My friends present, 
with one voice, said, "Do speak to him, Mr. Todd, for it is your 
father or brother, and the very image of you." At that moment 
he vanished from our sight. The company chided me for not 
speaking, saying, "He looked at you and smiled; he did want 
to speak to you." I replied, "Why did he not? It would 
have pleased me much." At that moment he again appeared, 
more distinct than before. " Now, do speak to him, Mr. Todd." 
I was about to do so, when he bowed to the audience, smiled, 
and said, "This is my son, ladies and gentlemen, he knows 
me." There were sixteen present, and they all saw and heard 
him. Then I said, "Father, have you anything to say to me ? " 
Now came the crucial test, or miracle, for his answer was one 
he had given me many times in my youth. With a smile of 
affection that he so often had bestowed upon me, he said, 
"John, do right and all will be well." He emphasized the 
word will very strongly, as much as to say, "John, when you 
were a boy I believed it would be well with us when we passed 
over, but now I know it is." Now, for the word " miracle " I 
have just written. I should say that nothing short of that 
would explain it. Out of a hundred English sentences that 
naturally might have been given in answer to my question, 
" Have you anything to say to me, father ? " that an entire 
stranger should have selected the one most used by my father 
to quiet my boyish fears in regard to the other life, is some- 
thing more than a coincidence. Often I would say to father, 
"Good works are not enough," for I had heard ministers 
say that the most moral man was the most dangerous man, for 
he leans upon works, not faith, for salvation, and they never 
can save. And after going to church and listening to a doc- 
trinal sermon, and being shaken over hades until I imagined I 
could smell the fumes of brimstone, I would go home and tell 
father and mother I wished I had never been born, because it 
would be my luck to get there, and I think so now. For if 
there is such a place, or condition, all I ask of my Heavenly 
Father is the privilege to go there and administer to their wants 
and comfort them in their suffering:. 



42 SPIRITUALISM 

Mr. Charles Blake, the father of George Blake, who lived 
in the house, then appeared, looking just as he did in life, and 
was recognized by most of the company. He said, " I am 
happy to meet you, my children," using the plural, for there 
were present two of his sons, with their wives and several of 
his grandchildren. There was also present a Mrs. Hooper, 
who was not a believer in spirit return. Her husband, a young 
sea captain whom I knew, appeared and looked as he did when 
he left Portland a few months before. I turned to look at her, 
and she was looking at him very earnestly. He spoke, calling 
her by her given name, and said, " This is true and glorious." 
She screamed, "My husband !" and, with clasped hands, sprang 
towards him, fainted, and would have fallen had she not been 
caught by those beside her. After she had recovered suffi- 
ciently she explained to us the meaning of what her husband 
had said, for there was a test for her in the sentence he had 
uttered. A short time before he left here on his last voyage, 
he said to his wife one Sunday, " How would you like to go to 
the spiritualist meeting ? I would like to go, for I have never 
attended one." She replied, "I would like to; I read in the 
paper this morning that a woman medium is to speak there 
to-day. Her name, I think, is Axey Sprague and I heard she 
was a fine speaker." So they went. After meeting he said to 
his wife, " I want to go aboard the barque and invite the mate 
to take tea with us." As they were walking down she said, 
" That was a beautiful discourse she gave." " Yes," he replied, 
and clasping her arm a little firmer, with much feeling said, 
" My dear, if that is only true, 'tis glorious." The reader can 
understand why she was so affected when he gave the truth 
without an " if ; " for now he exclaimed, " 'tis true and glorious," 
having passed over the so-called dark river, for he had died at 
Havana, Cuba. That was his last voyage, and that was the last 
walk he had with his wife. She never doubted but that she 
talked with her husband at that circle. Neither do I doubt it. 
I saw her several years after that event and she told me she 
still believed she saw her husband on that occasion, and had 



SPIRITUALISM 43 

no doubt but that they would spend an everlasting life together. 
Remember that there appeared on that occasion eight or ten 
spirits, all dressed in different costumes, and the medium in a 
china closet, and I had searched him thoroughly before he 
entered the closet and when he came out of it. 

Now I will relate some of the most marvelous manifestations 
that has ever taken place in this country or, at least, that has 
been recorded. How I do want to give the name of the man at 
whose house they occurred, for he was one of our leading mer- 
chants, every inch a man, and one whose word was as good as 
his bond. And I have never dreamed but that I should use 
his name in giving the account of his experiences in these won- 
derful phenomena. I have spoken with him often in public 
before large audiences and he, with great earnestness and feel- 
ing, would give an account of these strange manifestations that 
had occurred at his house. On one occasion, he had been 
invited to speak at Portsmouth, N. H. When he had finished 
his lecture and given an account of these strange phenomena, 
a man arose and wished to know if he could ask a question. 
"Certainly," said the speaker. He said, "Your account of 
your experiences is well told, and a most wonderful tale it is; 
there is only one trouble with it that I can see." "What is 
that ? " said the lecturer. His reply was, " Your story is not 
true." It created quite a stir in the audience. The speaker 
arose and said in reply, "Any fool could have said that, for it 
requires no experience, no study, no investigation, to say that." 
Here is the story as related by him before thousands of people 
and to me, who have discussed every point with him many a 
time : He returned home from his store one evening and was 
met by his youngest daughter a girl of thirteen summers, who 
appeared somewhat excited but mirthful, and said, " Come into 
the parlor and see the table, it's moving all around the room." 
Thinking she was playing some joke upon him, he stepped in 
and, sure enough, the table was moving. There were two or 
three of his daughter's playmates playing with her. They 
all placed their hands upon the table and it started. He still 



44 SPIRITUALISM 

thought it a trick of the girls. At that time he weighed about 
one hundred and seventy pounds, and throwing himself upon 
the table it started off with him and carried him across the 
room with great force. He was never more surprised in all his 
life. Jumping from the table he placed it in the middle of the 
room, and taking hold of it firmly said, " Now, let me see you 
move it." The table started, and he held on to it with all his 
might until it began to creak and tremble ; he only let go of it 
when he feared it would be torn to pieces. Then he began to 
investigate the cause of this strange phenomena. He spent 
much time in trying to unravel the mystery. One day his child 
was influenced to write, and addressing her father by his given 
name, said, "We will call it Charles," as she always afterwards 
did. When under that influence the spirit that controlled her 
purported to be a teacher of the gospel when in the earth form, 
and an uncle of the child's father. The handwriting was inva- 
riably that of this uncle, who had few equals as a penman, and 
whose writing would at once be recognized by any one at all 
familiar with it. On one occasion, when the child's father was 
lecturing in a place where this uncle had been town clerk for 
many years, he exhibited some of the writing that had been 
written in a bureau drawer that was locked and the key held by 
one of the company, who were listening to hear the movement 
of the pencil inside. This would occur in a room well lighted 
and often in the daytime. On another occasion, two gentlemen 
from Lynn brought their paper and pencils with them, placed 
them in a drawer, locked it, and one of them held the key in 
his hand while they waited for the writing to be given. After 
waiting some little time they heard a noise in the drawer when 
the little girl seized the pencil on the table before her and 
wrote, addressing her father, "George, if you will cut off the 
pencil I will write for the gentlemen." They opened the drawer 
and, to their surprise, found that the pencil was too long. It 
was cut off, and the writing was given to them. 

On another occasion the girl wrote some Latin, although 
she did not know one word of the language and knew nothing 



SPIRITUALISM 45 

of English grammar. Her father's brother, who was a great 
linguist, being present, said, " That Latin word you have written 
is not proper." The influence replied that it was. The next 
day the gentleman took the paper the child had written to one 
of the most learned clergymen in the city. He also pronounced 
it improper. Well, that settled it, as they supposed. But wait 
and see if there was not a thinker back of that child who knew 
more than they. Six months after that, as the child was seated 
at the table with her uncle, she wrote, " I want you to turn to 
i Cor. i : 27, and you will learn why I wrote the Latin sen- 
tence that you and your learned doctor of divinity said was 
wrong." Here is the passage : " But God hath chosen the 
foolish things of the world to confound the wise ; and God 
hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things 
which are mighty." She then wrote, " You send to Cambridge, 
Mass., and in such a library you will find in an old Latin dic- 
tionary that the word I used is proper, but obsolete. I thought 
I would give you a test and also call your attention to Paul's 
prophecy, that God would confound the wisdom of the wise, 
as set forth in the text as quoted above." 

The spirit that controlled the child, as I have written before, 
was, when in the form, a preacher of the Universalist faith and 
graduated from Dartmouth College probably in 1796 or '97; 
he was born in 1775 and passed to the higher life in 1843. He 
was known as a fine scholar and a good linguist. O, how I wish 
I could give the names, for it would add much to the weight 
of this narrative. It is too bad that I have been requested by 
the family not to publish their names. I cannot account for 
this timidity. O, that more could cut loose from the skirts of 
Mrs. Grundy and free themselves from this continually bowing 
down to this, "O, what will they say? " Never mind what they 
say. Speak out the truth boldly now when the world is weeping 
and groaning and dying for evidence that will give them proof 
and assurance of the continuity of life, and demonstrate to 
them the nearness of our loved and departed ones. I have 
ever felt it to be my duty to do so, and have always done it. 



46 SPIRITUALISM 

On another occasion, a cousin of the child's father, a lady 
from some distance away, came to visit him. While at tea she 
expressed a strong desire to witness the strange phenomena 
before she left for home. They were all seated at the table, 
the tea turned out and cups full, when the table commenced to 
rise ; it was taken up from the floor six inches and there held 
while the lady, and several others who were present, arose and 
looked under the table ; not a drop of tea was spilled from the 
cups. A gentleman asked of the spirit how they could do it. 
The reply came, " We took hold of the four corners of the table, 
the same as four of you would do if you wished to raise it." It 
is an accepted fact in philosophy that where there are thoughts 
there must be a thinker, and in this case there were many 
thoughts expressed. And whenever or wherever this intelli- 
gence has been asked, "Who or what are you ?" the answer 
invariably has been, " We are the spirits of departed mortals. 
If that is not so, why this universal affirmation that we are the 
spirits of departed men and women. Come, give us, you 
savants, a better and truer answer, for that is what the world is 
now waiting for." And I think the time is not far distant when 
we shall have a scientific demonstration of the truth of the 
return of our spirit friends. As Paul wrote to the Corinthians, 
13 : 10-12, " But when that which is perfect is come we shall 
see face to face." He did not say when we depart hence, but 
when that which is perfect is come, showing that there were to 
be clearer evidences and stronger proofs of the truths of the 
glorious gospel of the Nazarene. 

Another time Prof. E. B. Robinson was at a seance when his 
hat was taken from the room, carried up two flights of stairs 
and, when found, it was stowed away in the attic. A short time 
after that, while holding a seance at N. A. Foster's, Professor 
Robinson was present ; the child was influenced and wrote : 
"Professor Robinson, I hope I did not injure your hat by car- 
rying it upstairs the other night." It had not been mentioned 
to those present until the child wrote it. 



SPIRITUALISM 47 

The following is written on Thomas Paine's monument : 

I believe in one God and no more. 

I hope for immortality. 

Infidelity does not consist so much in 
not believing as in professing to believe 
what one does not believe. 



I have placed this here because I have heard him slandered 
and called an atheist, but on his tombstone he declared his 
belief in one God. Notwithstanding his doubts, he was a great 
patriot and all should read his book, "The Rights of Man." 

I spoke once in North Auburn. A few weeks before I was 
invited to speak I was at a spiritual seance, or circle, and a 
spirit, purporting to be my father, came and said to me, " John, 
you will be sent for from the North soon to speak, and I want 
you to go." This was in '59. I had never attempted to speak, 
that is, to give a lecture, although I had spoken many times, 
and I was timid about going. He said, " If you go, I will give 
you a test when there ; now be sure to go if a man comes after 
you." Not thinking I should be sent for, I consented. In a 
few days an acquaintance of mine, H. M. Bearce, a great shoe 
manufacturer of North Auburn, came to me and urged me to 
go there to speak. He wanted me to teach them Christianity. 
They had had a Methodist revival there ; they got into a quar- 
rel, and had put some boys who had disturbed the meeting into 
prison, which caused great feeling in the town. He would pay 
all expenses if I would go. I consented, and went. I wished 
them to ask me any question whenever they pleased during my 
lecture, in the course of which I said : " All truth is the word of 
God and nothing but truth can be, and if an error has crept 
into this Book (holding up the Bible), either through the igno- 
rance of the writer or mistake of the translator, that mistake 
cannot be the word of God." An old gentlemen arose in the 
audience and said, in a very peremptory manner, " Do I under- 
stand you to say that there are errors there ? " "I did not say 
so, I said if there were ; but for the sake of eliciting truth I will 



48 SPIRITUALISM 

assume there are errors there." He said, " I would like to have 
you point them out." I quoted from Matt. 5-28 : " ' It hath 
been said in old time, an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth, 
but I say unto you resist not evil.' Now, which is truth, Moses 
or Jesus, for it is a flat contradiction ? " It met with no response 
as I expected it would, for I considered it a strong point. In 
a moment a voice that has accompanied me through life, that 
has addressed me through my left ear, said " John, call that old 
villain's attention to Deut. 14-21." So strong was that voice 
that I came near saying "you old villain," but I said to myself 
" Why should I say 'old villain '? I don't know him and I gave 
permission to ask questions." Then it repeated again, " Call 
the old villain's attention to Deut. 14-21." And I did. "Ye 
shall not eat of anything that dieth of itself ; thou shalt give it 
to the stranger that is in thy gates that he may eat it ; or thou 
may est sell it unto an alien : for thou art a holy people unto the 
Lord thy God. Thou shalt not seethe the kid in his mother's 
milk." He dropped as though he was shot, and such a tre- 
mendous cheering throughout the hall I never heard ! And it 
continued. I said, "You would not dare do it, they would 
imprison or fine you for doing such a thing, but you could fall 
back and say you had your Bible for it." The uproar con- 
tinued. By the demonstration I thought there was something 
behind my remarks that I knew nothing of. This man got up, 
walked across the hall and conversed with a gentleman whom I 
learned afterwards was a lawyer. As soon as the meeting was 
over the lawyer came to me, said he had been highly enter- 
tained, and wanted me to tell him how I came to be there. 
" Were you ever in North Auburn before ? " I answered, " No." 
" Had you ever seen that man who asked you the question, and 
do you know who he is ? Have you ever heard of him ? " 
I answered, " I am a perfect stranger in the town." " How 
came you here ? " I told him. "Did you not notice the sen- 
sation that your last quotation caused?" "I did." "Well, 
four years ago that same man, a member of a Congregationalist 
church, if not a deacon, was turned out of the church and fined 



SPIRITUALISM 49 

eighty-four dollars for selling a pig, against the law of the State, 
that was on the point of dying when he killed it." 

After the meeting was over a few of us met to hold a circle 
to get the test that I had been promised, but no test was given. 

I felt quite annoyed, and the next evening I visited the medium, 
a poor, uncultivated woman. I said nothing to her about my 
lecture, but after she was seated at the table the same spirit 
that purported to be my father said, " Well, my boy, I am more 
than pleased with your lecture ; you gave great satisfaction to 
most of the people." "Yes," I said, "but where is the test 
you promised me ? I held a circle to give you a chance." " If 
the old villain who sold tainted meat did not receive it as a 
test, most assuredly many of the audience did." "Yes," I said, 

II but this cannot be my father, for he would not have wounded 
the feelings of a man in a public audience. I am sure I would 
not had I known it." "John, I was not the controlling influ- 
ence that gave you the thought, but I endorse it. He is an 
old villain, and did not ask those questions to elicit truth, but 
to get you to deny the Scriptures, and thereby break the force 
of your remarks through the prejudice of the audience. He 
drew the sword and perished by the sword." For years after- 
wards the people who heard me that night would speak of it as 
a strange coincidence, to say the least. 

WHISPERS OF ANGELS. 

When upon the busy city 

Sinks the gathering shades of night, 
Falls upon my heart the calmness 

Of a holy strange delight, 
Then within, around my chamber 

All the air seems filled with light, 
With a glorious presence beaming, 

Floating still before my sight. 
Then I question still, tho' vainly 

Of the mystic sudden thrill, 
Of the presence in my chamber 

When the sounds of day are still. 



50 SPIRITUALISM 

Come they not with toil and bustle 

Not amid day's toil and strife, 
But at evening when the spirit 

Wakens to a higher life, 
Then within my silent chamber 

Come their footfalls hushed and still, 
And their footsteps echo softly, 

Like the tinking of a rill. 

And those words my spirit strengthen, 

Come they from the angel band ? 
From those beings pure whose whispers 

Reaches from eternal land 
And I go forth on the morrow 

With a stronger, nobler heart, 
That those whispers, low and thoughtful, 

To my spirit, life impart, 
Blessed spirit, when the twilight 

Showers her due upon the lee, 
Then ye gather in my chamber 

And a blessing bring to me, 
And whene'er I question vainly 

Of the things we may not know, 
Then my heart grows sad and lonely 

And my life pulse faint and low, 
Then the white wings of the angels 

Pause a moment in their flight, 
And they waft me back a blessing 

On the pinions of the night. 

John M. Todd. 



MISTRESS GLENARE. 

By " Marian." 
(Second volume of Lizzie Doten, written under spiritual influence.) 

A virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare — 

Or, at least, so the world in its judgment would say; — 
With an orderly walk and a circumspect air, 

She never departs from the popular way. 



SPIRITUALISM 5 1 

Every word that she speaks is well measured and weighed ; 

Her friends are selected with scrupulous care ; 
And all that she does is her prudence displayed, 

For a virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare! 

Her youth has departed, and with it has fled 

The impulse which gives to the blood a new start, 
Which oftentimes turns from the reasoning head, 

To trust to the wisdom of God in the heart. 
Thus the robes of her purity never are stained, 

And her feet are withheld from the pitfall and snare ; 
Where nothing is ventured, there nothing is gained : 

O, a virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare ! 

She makes no distinction of sinners or sin ; 

Her words are like arrows, her tongue is a rod; 
She sees no excuse for the evil within, 

But comdemns with the zeal of a partialist God ! 
On a background of darkness, of sorrow and shame, 

Her own reputation looks stainless and fair ; 
So she builds up her fame, through her neighbors' bad name : 

O, a virtuous woman is Mistress Glenare ! 

She peeps and she listens, she watches and waits, 

Nor Satan himself is more active than she 
To expose in poor sinners the faults and bad traits, 

Which she fears the Lord might not happen to see. 
When the Father of Spirits looks down from above 

On the good and the evil, the frail and the fair, 
How must he regard, with particular love, 

This virtuous woman — good Mistress Glenare ! 

Your thoughts have been run in the popular mould, 

Like wax that is plastic and easily melts ; 
Till now, like a nondescript, lo, and behold ! 

You are neither yourself, nor yet anyone else. 
Of tender compassion, forgiveness, and love, 

Your nature has not a respectable share ; 
You are three parts of serpent, and one of the dove — 

Very badly proportioned, dear Mistress Glenare. 

Your noblest affections have withered and died, 

Like summer-dried roses, your spirit within; 
Your heart has grown arid, and scarce is supplied 

With sufficient vitality even to sin. 



52 SPIRITUALISM 

But would you be true to your virtuous name, 

There is one we commend to your tenderest care ; 

To deal with her wisely will add to your fame : 
That poor sinful woman is — Mistress Glenare. 

O, Mistress Glenare ! In the drama of life 

You are acting a very respectable part ; 
You have known just enough of its envious strife 

To deceive both the world and your own foolish heart. 
But say, in some moment of clear common sense, 

Did you never in truth and sincerity dare 
To ask the plain question, aside from pretence, 

How you looked to the angels, dear Mistress Glenare ! 

The glory of God has enlightened their eyes : 

No longer in darkness they see but in part. 
And the robes of your righteousness do not suffice 

To cover the lack of true love in the heart. 
You look shabby, and filthy, and ragged, and mean — 

E'en with those you condemn, you but poorly compare ! 
Go ! wash you in charity till you are clean ; 

You will change for the better, dear Mistress Glenare. 

Love will eventually overcome all. Since the most forgiven 
love most, who at the last will love most, Satan or Gabriel ? 

" I am that darkness from whence springs light, 
I am the evil by which good wins its strength, 
I am the base on which the heights are builded : 
Conquered, I am eternal bliss. 
Conquering, I am everlasting wretchedness; 
Conquered, I am life immortal, 
Conquering, I am immemorial death." 

" Jesu, Jesu, what of hell, 

Since with Heaven, 'tis thine as well ? 

" Harken now, thou Emperor Dark, 
Mine the raven as the lark ; 
When that men for love of me, 
Everyone, have conquered thee, 
Homesick Satan, thou shalt then 
Dwell with me in heaven again." 
Portland, January i, 1906. 



SPIRITUALISM 53 

If ever I meet his satanic majesty I shall urge upon him to 
return to the place he is reputed to have left, and the sooner 
the better for him, for there is no pleasure in wrongdoing; I have 
tried it and know. And as Christ will reign until he puts all 
enemies under his feet, you must come in at last, and it is high 
time you should do so. As Paul wrote in Rom. 5 : 20, " Where 
sin abounds, grace did much more abound." You may yet 
become a bright and shining light and then the clergy will 
cease slandering you. 

In Robert Dole Owen's book, entitled " Footprints on the 
Boundary of Another World," you can find this story or narra- 
tive, testified to by the officers and some of the crew of both 
ships, and I would advise anyone who is interested in spiritual- 
ism, or who wish for evidence to prove the continuity of life, to 
read this book. This is but one of the many proofs given 
therein. The ship was crossing the Atlantic, far to the North. 
One night, as the captain lay in his birth, the door of his state- 
room being open, he saw a man writing at his desk in the cabin. 
He did not speak, thinking it was the mate who had stepped 
below, but wondered why he should have left the deck when he 
and the second mate were below, an unusual thing at sea to 
have all the officers leave the deck at the same time. The 
next morning the captain asked the mate why he left the deck 
to go below. He denied that he was below. " Well, there is 
the proof, for you stood there and wrote upon the slate : ' Steer 
to the north-northwest.' " The mate looked at the writing and 
said: "That is not my handwriting, Captain, you can see for 
yourself." And there was not a man on board the ship who 
wrote anything like it. It was so singular a thing the captain 
concluded to put the ship on the course directed, towards the 
north, and sailed for several hours through fields of ice. He 
said to the mate : " How foolish I am to sail out of my course 
on such an errand as this ! " But he still kept on. At last he 
sent a man aloft to see if he could see anything, who reported 
that he saw a black object not larger than a bird. They kept 
on, found a ship frozen in the ice and rescued the crew. When 



54 SPIRITUALISM 

the mate of the rescued crew came over the rail, the captain 
said to his mate, " That is the man I saw writing on the slate 
in the cabin." After the officers went below, the captain of the 
rescued ship said, " Captain, a strange thing is this, our escape 
from death." " Yes, it is strange, indeed, but what do you 
mean ? " "I will tell you, Captain. After all hope had van- 
ished and death seemed staring us in the face, my mate came 
on deck in the morning, smiling, and said, " Captain, we shall 
be taken off to-day, for the rescuer is at hand." " What do 
you mean ? " " Last night as I lay in my berth — I was not 
asleep — I appeared to be taken on board a ship and into its 
cabin where I walked to the captain's desk and wrote, ' Steer 
to the north-northwest.' When I came out of that state it 
appeared like a trance, but I thought it a dream." Now, this 
is a strange story and well vouched for by both crews, and to 
say that it did not occur is not proof against it. 

In the years 1854, 1855 and 1856 no snow fell before the 
first of January. The roads in the country were as smooth as 
a floor and in many places two or three teams could be driven 
abreast, for the fall rains had filled the gutters and the water 
had frozen. The dust had blown over the ice in the ruts and 
made the road smooth and level. That was the condition of 
the roads through the months of November and December dur- 
ing the three years. Now to my story. The bark Helen A. 
Warren, Capt. George Chase, formerly of Brunswick, and a 
cousin of the late Capt. Charles H. Chase of this city, had 
arrived in Boston from a foreign voyage, discharged her cargo, 
and was coming to Portland in ballast. The captain's wife, 
having accompanied him on the voyage, persistently urged him 
to let her go to Portland with him, notwithstanding the perils 
of the voyage ; but he, thinking he might be driven off the coast 
by a storm, persuaded her to take the cars home. I think they 
sailed from Boston on the second of January, 1856, a beautiful 
day, with a slight southwest wind. At three o'clock that after- 
noon she was seen as she passed Thatcher's Island, thirty miles 
from Boston. That night a terrible northeast snow storm set 



SPIRITUALISM 55 

in, being similar to that which the steamer Portland encoun- 
tered. How well I remember it! I had been to sea five years 
and I well knew what it meant to those upon the deep that 
night. To bring it nearer home to me was the fact that Mrs. 
Chase, the captain's wife, was in the same house with us. The 
storm continued three days with all its fury unabated. It is 
pretty well understood in this city that John M. Todd thinks, 
aye, and knows, that he talks with those whom the people call 
dead. Lord Bulwer Lytton sang, " There is no death," and Paul 
wrote, " I speak boldly." So every truthful man should do the 
same. There was in the city at that time an aged Methodist 
minister, and his wife had recently been converted to spiritual- 
ism. She was one of the finest women I ever met. They had 
an appointment for two weeks before this to meet at my house 
on the 6th of that month, three days after the sailing of the 
Warren. My wife invited Mrs. Chase in to witness whatever 
might take place. We, of course, had no knowledge at that 
time of the loss of the Warren, for she had been out but three 
or four days and there was no anxiety felt at that time about 
her. We had been at the table but a few minutes before Mrs. 
Danforth was entranced, took a pencil that lay on the table for 
that purpose, and wrote the name of George Chase. The 
medium then said, "I am Capt. George Chase." " What," said 
I, " Captain, you have not passed out of the form, have you ? " 
"Yes, John, the ship and all on board are gone." "That can- 
not be so." "Yes, it is, and you should certainly know me." 
His wife said, "I don't believe a word of it." Then he 
addressed me in sailor's phrase, saying : " The storm reached 
us the first of the afternoon the second day out. We judged 
ourselves off Portsmouth and were in hopes to reach that place, 
or Cape Porpoise harbor. W T e stood close to land, but could 
not make out where we were. We wore ship and stood out to 
sea. We were under close reefed topsails at 11.30 at night. 
Capt. Noah Knight was at the helm when we wore ship; the 
wind was terrific; the sea running high. The ship capsized, 
and we were all lost, and the Helen A. Warren will never be in 



56 SPIRITUALISM 

port again." I knew I was talking with a sailor. I was also 
well aware that there was no one in the room who understood 
the sailor phrases used. He gave test after test, both to his 
wife and myself. I was sure what he told me was true. I had 
not the least doubt but that I had talked with Captain Chase of 
the bark Helen A. Warren. The next morning I called at the 
office of John A. Poor, editor and proprietor of the newspaper 
called The State of Maine, gave an account of the circle, 
with the story told of the loss of the bark and all on board. 
Mr. Poor read it and said, "John, you must not publish it; it 
will never do. Don't you know prophecy is the most dangerous 
style of literature ? Why, the vessel will be in port before three 
days, and then how will we appear ? I should be blamed very 
much for publishing it, and you are not aware of what you are 
asking me to do." He reasoned and pleaded with me not 
to publish it, but I insisted on his printing it, for print it I 
would. He at last yielded to me and it came out the next 
morning. It caused a great sensation in the city. Some were 
much offended ; some pitied me, others threatened, saying I 
would be mobbed, as there was no law to reach me. Mr. Poor 
was blamed more than I by some, for he was older and knew 
better and should have refused to publish it. Some, more char- 
itable than the rest, said that Augusta, "east side of the river," 
was the best place for me. Days and weeks passed by and no 
tidings came of the missing bark. One day Enoch Moody, 
owner and keeper of the Observatory, came rushing into my 
shop and said : "I want you to leave the city for a few days. I 
have hastened to tell you ; now you hurry and do it. The 
Helen A. Warren is off the Cape. I have hoisted her private 
signal, and if it is not she it will be the first time I have ever 
been mistaken in a ship. Now believe me, John, when I tell 
you, that it is all arranged that the captains and mates in port 
are going to take you, as soon as Captain Chase comes ashore, 
tar and feather you and ride you on a rail out of the city. Now, 
take my advice and go away for a few days, for they mean 
business." He gave the names of four or five of the leaders. 



SPIRITUALISM 57 

I said : " Mr. Moody, when I wrote what Captain Chase told 
me that night I believed every word of it. I believe it now. 
That is not the bark Helen A. Warren off the Cape." He 
replied, "I know it is, and I have given you due warning." 
"Mr. Moody," said I, "I shall not leave the city; I am not 
built that way. If they wish to mob me, I am ready." Mr. 
Poor came in and said : " You have led me where I feared and 
said you would when you wanted me to publish your prophetic 
visions." " Mr. Poor, they were not prophetic visions, but his- 
toric facts," I said to him. " Cheer up and read your Bible 
where 'tis written, 'Woe unto you, when all men shall speak 
well of you.' But I admit that it is hard indeed for him on 
whom the public gaze is forever fixed, either to detract or praise, 
especially when the tar bucket is in view." They did not visit 
me to mob me, for the bark that was signalled stood in near the 
Cape, got her bearings and then bore away to the east. The 
hearts of all Portland beat low and the breathing grew faint 
when the flag was lowered showing it was not the Helen A. 
Warren. And eyes grew dim watching for the dear ones that 
ne'er returned. 

PETER McGUIRE, OR NATURE AND GRACE. 

Miss Ltzzie Doten. 

It has always been thought a critical case, 

When a man was possessed of more Nature than Grace, — 

For theology teaches that man from the first 

Was a sinner by nature, and justly accursed ; 

And " Salvation by Grace " was the wonderful plan, 

Which God had invented to save erring man. 

'Twas the only atonement he knew how to make, 

To annul the effects of his own sad mistake. 

Now this was the doctrine of good Parson Brown, 
Who preached, not long since, in a small country town. 
He was zealous, and earnest, and could so excel 
In describing the tortures of sinners in Hell, 



58 SPIRITUALISM 

That a famous revival commenced in the place, 
And hundreds of souls found " Salvation by Grace 
But he felt that he had not attained his desire, 
Till he converted one Peter McGuire. 



This man was a blacksmith, frank, fearless and bold, 

With great brawny sinews like Vulcan of old; 

He had little respect for what ministers preach, 

And sometimes was very profane in his speech, 

His opinions were founded in clear common sense, 

And he spoke as he thought, though he oft gave offence ; 

But however wanting, in whole or in part, 

He was sound, and all right, when you came to his heart. 



One day the good parson with pious intent 
To the smithy of Peter most hopefully went; 
And there, while the hammer industriously swung, 
He preached, and he prayed, and exhorted, and sung, 
And warned and entreated poor Peter to fly 
From the pit of destruction before he should die ; 
And to wash himself clean from the world's sinful strife, 
In the Blood of the Lamb, and the River of Life. 



Well, and what would you now be inclined to expect 
Was the probable issue and likely effect ? 
Why, he swore "like a pirate," and what do you think? 
From a little black bottle took something to drink ! 
And he said, " I'll not mention the Blood of the Lamb, 

But as for the River it aren't worth a ; " 

Then pausing — as if to restrain his rude force — 
He quietly added, " mill-dam, of course." 



Quick out of the smithy the minister fled, 
As if a big bomb -shell had burst near his head ; 
And as he continued to haste on his way, 
He was too much excited to sing or to pray; 
But he thought how some were elected by Grace, 
As heirs of the kingdom — made sure of their place - 
While others are doomed to the pains of Hell fire, 
And if e'er there was one such, 'twas Peter McGuire. 



SPIRITUALISM 59 

That night when the Storm King was riding on high, 

And the red shafts of lightning gleamed bright through the sky, 

The church of the village, "the Temple of God," 

Was struck for the want of a good lightning rod. 

And swiftly descending, the element dire 

Set the minister's house, close by it, on fire, 

While he peacefully slumbered with never a fear 

Of the terrible works of destruction so near. 

There were Mary, and Hannah, and Tommy, and Joe, 

All sweetly asleep in the bedroom below, 

While their father was near, with their mother at rest, 

( Like the wife of John Rogers with " one at the breast.") 

But Alice, the eldest, a gentle young dove, 

Was asleep all alone, in the room just above ; 

And when the wild cry of the rescuer came, 

She only was left to the pitiless flame. 

The fond mother counted her treasures of love, 
When lo! one was missing — "O Father above 1" 
Now madly she shrieked in her agony wild — 
" My Alice ! My Alice ! O save my dear child ! " 
Then down on his knees fell the Parson and prayed 
That the terrible wrath of the Lord might be stayed. 
Said Peter McGuire, " Prayer is good in its place, 
But then it don't suit this particular case." 

He turned down the sleeves of his red flannel shirt 

To shield his great arms all besmutted with dirt; 

Then into the bellows of smoke and of fire, 

Not pausing an instant, dashed Peter McGuire. 

(), that terrible moment of anxious suspense ! 

How breathless their watching ! Their fear how intense ! 

And then their great joy ! which was freely expressed 

When Peter appeared with the child on his breast. 

A shout rent the air when the darling he laid 

In the arms of her mother, so pale and dismayed; 

And as Alice looked up and most gratefully smiled, 

He bowed down his head and he wept like a child. 

O, those tears of brave manhood that rained o'er his face, 

Showed the true Grace of Nature, and the Nature of Grace ; 

'Twas a manifest token, a visible sign, 

Of the indwelling life of the Spirit Divine. 






60 SPIRITUALISM 

Consider such natures, and then, if you can, 
Preach of total depravity, innate in man. 
Talk of blasphemy ! Why, 'tis profanity wild, 
To say that the Father thus cursed his own child! 
Go learn of the stars, and the due spangled sod, 
That all things rejoice in the goodness of God — 
That each thing created is good in its place, 
And Nature is but the expression of Grace. 

" If love with this short life doth end 

Be thou my friend : 

If love dies not, 

In love let friendship be forgot." 

C. G. Blandon. 



ANECDOTES 

AND 

CONVERSATIONS 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS. 



The following anecdotes and conversations I have had with 
some of my old customers, many of them the leading men of 
the city and the country, during the sixty-two years I have been 
in a barber shop, may interest many, especially the descendants 
of those men whose conversations and peculiarities I shall give. 

The first one I shall introduce to the reader is the Hon. 
John Neal, for whom I had the greatest respect. 

JOHN NEAL. 

The first I knew of him was when a boy about sixteen. I 
was living at that time on the shores of the Kennebec. I took 
up the Portland Transcript and read, " No Man Has a Right 
to Do Wrong. — John Neal." My first impression was, who are 
you, John Neal, who dare to tell me, an American born Yankee, 
that I have no right to do as I please, for I have the right to do 
as I like. In a moment that inner voice, that has ever called a 
halt when I have been wrong, said : " Wait a moment and think 
what Mr. Neal wrote. He is right, for we may do wrong with 
impunity, but we have no right to do wrong." So I saw the 
point and that Mr. Neal was right. Years passed on and in 
1845, Mr. Neal became a customer of mine, and for thirty-five 
years I had the benefit of his wisdom, learning and generosity. 
His library was ever open to me, and much indebted was I to 
him. And now to that dual nature of Mr. Neal's, that strong, 
ungovernable temper that brooked no insult, for woe to him who 
dared to offend him or incur his wrath. Henry Ward Beecher 
said : ''Our virtues consist not in what we do or what we do 
not do, but in what we have resisted." No one knows what 
Mr. Neal resisted. He said to me : " I tremble when I think 
of my ungovernable temper. I know not why I have not killed 



64 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

some one ere this." I will give you an instance of that double 
nature of his. 

I was in his office when a hard looking and very poorly clad 
Irishman came in, walked up to Mr. Neal, took from his hat a 
dirty paper, threw it down upon the table in front of Mr. Neal, 
saying, " There's that bill for digging the house drain." Mr. 
Neal looked at the footing of the bill, $63. Like a tiger he 
sprang from his chair, both feet striking the floor together, with 
eyes flashing and glaring like a wild lion, and screeched, " Out 
of my office, you villain, or I'll thrash the floor with you ! " The 
poor Irishman shot out of the room like lightning and Mr. Neal 
commenced pacing the floor back and forth like a wild tiger, 
and repeating, "Sixty-three dollars, the villain; six dollars 
would have been a fair price for the job." At that moment 
poor Michael opened the door about half an inch and, in a low 
voice, said, "Mr. Neal, the big house drain is there too." 

" O dear, dear, will you forgive me, Michael," said Mr. Neal, 
changing instantly, " have I wounded your feelings ? Will you 
forgive me ? I had forgotten all about the large house drain. 
The bill is none too large. The fact is I glanced at the sixty- 
three dollars, when I thought six dollars was enough, and I see 
that is just what you have charged for the small house drain." 
Mr. Neal sat down, took out his check book, wrote a check for 
the sixty-three dollars, and said again, " Michael, please forgive 
me, won't you?" Michael said, "To be sure I will, Mr. Neal, 
for that is nothing ; you are a good man, you are. I know you 
well and am sure you could not help it at all, for you get mad 
easy." I stood motionless through it all, perfectly astonished to 
witness such an outburst of rage and apparently without a suffi- 
cient cause. I had not ventured to speak, waiting in silence. 
Mr. Neal turned to me smiling, and his smile was as fascinating 
as his frown was terrifying when enraged, and said : "John, you 
saw the fool John Neal, and you also saw John Neal who pro- 
fesses to be a follower of his beloved Master, and I could not 
help it. I do try hard to live up to His teaching. Oh, how 
humiliating it was for me to get upon my knees, figuratively 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 65 

speaking, and humbly ask that man's forgiveness, but justice, 
honor and the blessed gospel called so loudly upon me, I was 
obliged to do it." 

I said: "Mr. Neal, I think more of you than ever; I have 
learned another of the great lessons of life on this visit. I 
have learned what one of the great struggles of life is, and what 
a victory you won, and how a great soul has to fight before 
reaching the Delectable mountain." I was taught on that occa- 
sion the great lesson of charity for others, whose struggles 
through life are different from our own. 

Mr. Neal was once walking down Middle street with a couple 
of ladies. When near to Middle street, a boy who was shovel- 
ing snow from the sidewalk, threw some snow upon the ladies' 
dresses. Mr. Neal said : " Don't you know any better than 
that? If you do not, 'tis time you were taught." The boy 
sauced him and he sprang upon the lad and gave him a severe 
slapping. In a few days Mr. Neal was summoned into court. 
He walked in and, turning to the judge, said, " Your honor, is 
my case before the court this morning ? " The judge replied 
that it was. "I am here to answer to the charge," said Mr. 
Neal, " and not wishing to detain this honorable court for a 
moment, I plead guilty ; what is the cost ? " " Ten dollars and 
costs ; fourteen dollars and eighty-four cents," was the answer. 
Mr. Neal took out his pocketbook, laid down the money and 
said: "Your honor, one word, for I will not detain this honor- 
able court upon so trivial a matter, but I want it distinctly 
understood, and let it go forth from this court and throughout 
the country, that John Neal will not be insulted by man, woman 
or child, with impunity." He left the room. 

One day, during the Civil War, while I was cutting his hair, 
a man from the town of Deering came in. Of course, the 
rebellion was the topic of conversation, and the Deering man 
was what was called in bitter terms, "a Copperhead." He was 
in great sympathy with the south, denounced the war as a 
damned abolition war, and wished that Lee would march his 
army through Gorham and Westbrook to Portland, and said he 



66 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

would turn out his herd of cattle to feed them. Neal jumped 
from the chair, brought down his fist, that shook every lamp in 
the shop, and cried out, "You are a traitor, you are a traitor; 
and if the fight is to be brought to the north, it might as well 
begin here and now." I jumped between them and said, " Mr. 
Neal, I would not notice him." "Notice him, notice him," he 
repeated ; " how dare he to utter such treason in my presence ?" 
The man left and I finished cutting his hair. 

Mr. Neal was born at the south corner of Free and South 
streets, nearly opposite where Dr. Bray now lives. It was a 
two-story wooden house. He was born in the north corner 
room on the second floor. I was walking with him up Free 
street one time and he pointed out to me the room where he was 
born. He was a twin and his sister was a sickly child, but he 
was always a giant. He told me that he was in many a boyish 
fight, for with him it was a word and a blow, and the blow came 
first. 

Mr. Neal told me that he never intended to live in Portland. 
He went to Baltimore and went into the dry goods business with 
John Pierpont. They did not succeed in that business and 
gave it up. Neal studied law and Pierpont went into the min- 
istry and became one of the great ministers of the country. 
Neal became an extensive writer. He saw in an English paper 
that it was no use for any American writer to send their books 
to England for they never would be bought there, as no one 
would read them. Neal said he resolved to go to England and 
write some books that they would read there. So he went and 
his writings were read. He. wrote a book entitled "Brother 
Jonathan Abroad," and it had a great run over there. He pict- 
ured the low Yankee character, such as is presented upon the 
stage. Well, it aroused a terrible storm over here, and in Port- 
land he was denounced with great indignation. They said he 
had turned traitor to his country and was hobnobbing with 
English nabobs. That was not many years after the war of 
1812 had closed and the feeling at that time was very bitter 
against England. Mr. Neal was the last man to have a thought 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 6j 

of turning his back upon anything that was American. When 
he arrived in Portland on his way home to Baltimore and met 
his old friends and acquaintances, they hardly noticed him. 
Some even refused to take his hand when he offered his. He 
made enquiries and was told it was because he had written 
against his countrymen and turned against his own people. 
Then all the tiger of his nature was aroused in him, and he 
resolved not to be driven from his native home. He would 
stay here, and "it was a hard fight, I assure you," he said to 
me. They hired a large, powerful negro to dog his steps, sit 
upon his office steps while there, and upon his house steps while 
he was at home. One day, while passing down Congress street, 
where our new library now stands, the negro was walking behind 
him, a few feet away. He wheeled about, facing the man, and 
said, " Cuffee, I suppose you are paid for this job of following 
me around." "Yes, sir." "What do you get a day?" "A 
dollar and a half, sir." "Well, I'll not deprive you of so good 
a job, but, you black serpent, if you come within ten feet of 
me I'll thrash the sidewalk with you. Do you hear ?" "Yes, 
sir." The man stopped where he was, went to his employers 
and said, "I am done. I throw up my job." "Why, what is 
the matter with you ? " was asked. " I don't want to go round 
any more with dat man, sir ; I don't like de look of his eyes, 
sir." 

I have written more of Mr. Neal than I should, but I think 
he was one of the most patriotic and public-spirited men I ever 
knew, and he did all in his power for Portland. 

One day he called in my shop to wait for the horse car. He 
was about eighty, and was weak and in failing health ; he said 
to me, " I was thinking while walking up Exchange street that 
if I had my life to live over again, I would smile myself through 
the world as you have." Then, straightening himself up and 
shaking his fist violently, he said, " There, I could not do it. I 
had to fight." He did really force the English people to read 
at least one American's book. He was very popular, especially 
at the clubs where the boys all met. Before leaving Baltimore 



68 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

he always went by the name of Cataract, "because of the great 
force and power he possessed." 

To give an instance of Mr. Neal's indignation at a wrong or 
insult : When he was seventy-nine years old, he was riding in 
the horse cars up Congress street, and a young man was smok- 
ing in the car. The conductor said to him, " No smoking in 
the cars, sir." He paid no attention to the conductor. Mr. 
Neal, supposing he was deaf, touched him and said, " There are 
ladies in the car, please don't smoke." He turned in contempt 
to Mr. Neal and said, "What is that to you, old man?" He 
had scarcely uttered the words when Mr. Neal grabbed him by 
the throat and threw him into the street. His hat flew off, but 
he caught it and ran down High street, looking back to see if 
"the old tiger," as he called him, was after him. "I'll teach 
you not to insult ladies in my presence, you scamp," said he. 

One night Mr. Neal came into my shop and was speaking of 
a certain gentleman, and I said he was a learned man. " Don't 
ever use that word again," said he. "Should I have said a 
learned man, instead of a learn-ed man ? " I asked. "No, no," 
he says, " I am not criticising your language, your grammar or 
your pronunciation, but don't call a man a learned man so long 
as you know one thing he does not. Who'd be the learned 
man, I ask you, John, in case a whale should come into a har- 
bor and Professor Packard of Bowdoin College, and Captain 
Young, who has been fifty years a whaler, were in a boat pre- 
pared to catch that whale ? If that whale should be caught 
Professor Packard would be holding onto the gunwales of that 
boat. Captain Young would be the man who caught the whale. 
Now, who would be the professor on that occasion, John, Pro- 
fessor Packard of Bowdoin, or Captain Young, the whaler? 
Every man should be professor of his own business ; not only a 
professor, but a competent one. No, no, John, there is no 
greater humbug in the minds of men than this obsequious bow- 
ing to men of high station. The great thinkers of the world are 
the workers of the world, the producers in the world." Such 
thoughts as these have lifted me up and urged me to greater 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 69 

effort, and I more fully realized the dignity of man and his 
possibilities. 

JOSEPH H. INGRAHAM. 

As I stood in front of Longfellow's monument, "and I knew 
him well," I felt thankful and happy for more reasons than one 
that a monument had been erected to the great poet in the city 
of his birth. And I thought that it marked a new era in mon- 
ument building, though the poet needed no monument built of 
stone to perpetuate his memory. It has been said that no poet 
has ever lived in history who did not write of the continuity of 
life or of the spiritual, and Longfellow was preeminently a poet 
of the spiritual. 

It has been said that if we could destroy all monuments 
erected to war heroes and to great battles there would be but 
few left. So I thought it did mark a new era, and I feel that 
the world is waking up to comprehend the meaning of that 
prophecy, "There will be no killing upon the holy mountain ; " 
and Sherman said that war was hell and we all have been 
taught to keep out of it. It is about time to stop glorifying 
war and cease building monuments to its honor. I left the 
monument and walked down State street, than which there is 
no finer street in the country. I saw no monument erected to 
the man who gave that elegant street to the city and planted 
those trees in double rows on either side. Joseph H. Ingraham 
was one of the most generous, enterprising and public-spirited 
citizens Portland ever had. His benefactions were not only felt 
in his time but will benefit each generation as time passes on, 
as long as Portland remains a city. He came from York, Me., 
in 1768, and established himself in the silversmith's trade. He 
lost much, including his dwelling house, at the time Mowatt 
burned the city in 1775. After that, in 1777, he built the first 
dwelling house erected after the city was burned by Mowatt, on 
Fore street, opposite Long wharf. In 1793, he built a block of 
stores where the old granite Bethel building now stands on the 



JO ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

east corner of Moulton street. They were burned in August, 
1827. In the same year he built Ingraham wharf, now Com- 
mercial wharf. In 1801, he built the elegant and commodious 
house on the east corner of State and Danforth streets and the 
same year laid out State street, with its beautiful rows of trees 
that now adorn this magnificent thoroughfare. In 1805, he 
gave to the town a lot of land on the corner of Milk and Market 
streets to be used as a perpetual market. The next year he 
presented to the town a lot of land on Spring street near State, 
for a schoolhouse, where the present stone building was erected, 
which is now occupied by fire engine No. 4. In that deed the 
consideration was: "My regard and attachment for the town of 
Portland." He also gave a lot of over three acres on which 
the almshouse was built. He also opened Market street from 
Middle to Fore street and gave that to the town. He was 
one of the founders of the Marine Relief Association. He built 
the house recently occupied by the late W. W. Thomas, corner 
of Danforth and Winter streets, and passed away in that house 
on October 30, 1841, at the age of ninety years; and his body 
was placed in Eastern Cemetery where his ashes now repose. 
Lo ! these were a part of his gifts, but how little a portion do 
we know of his gifts and ways, and how little do we know of 
him. He had evidently arrived to that condition of soul where 
it was more blessed to give than to receive. We have two of 
his grandsons living in our city at this time, one of whom, 
George T., is a man of large business experience ; he was 
appointed by President Buchanan, United States Consul at San 
Bias, Mexico. During President Lincoln's administration and 
for many years he was engaged in commercial business in Cuba 
and Mexico. The other is ex-Mayor Darius H., who was born 
in 1837 ; was appointed by President Cleveland, United States 
Consul at Cadiz, Spain, and also United States Consul General 
at Halifax, N. S. 

" Go, strew his ashes to the winds, 

Whose voice or gifts have blessed mankind. 

And is he dead whose glorious mind lifts thine on high, 

To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die." 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS J I 

Can any of Portland's writers give any reason why there 
should not be a monument placed on State street, and a good 
one, too, in honor of and in gratitude to such a man ? I think 
we should be thankful that such a man has lived and died in 
Portland and set us, and all coming generations, such an 
example of generosity. 



JAMES DEERING. 

James Deering, for whom the town of Deering was named, 
was one of the best, kindest hearted men I ever met. He was 
of the Ben Adhem tribe, he loved his fellow men. Many kindly 
acts I knew of him. His smile was a benediction even when 
you asked a favor of him. I was once raising money by sub- 
scription for a poor man who had lost his sight and was going 
to Boston to have his eyes operated upon, for at that time there 
were no oculists here. I asked Mr. Deering if he would give 
something towards it. " I have no change to spare to-day," he 
said. There were others who had put me off the same way, 
and I supposed that ended it. I raised the money, however, 
and the man had his eyes operated upon. Five or six weeks 
after I was walking up Middle street, crossing Temple, and 
opposite to where the Falmouth Hotel now stands, Mr. Deer- 
ing was passing. He called to me. The street was quite 
muddy and I started to cross, he starting at the same time. I 
said, "Wait, Mr. Deering, don't muddy your boots." "It's no 
worse for me to muddy my boots than it is for you," he said. 
Taking out his pocketbook he said, "You spoke to me about a 
blind man having his eyes operated upon, did you not ? " "I 
did," I said, "but I raised the money and he has had it done." 
" Have you five dollars with you," he said. " Here is ten dol- 
lars, John, hand me the five. Can he see now?" "No, not 
yet." " Well, keep the ten and give it to him. He will need it 
before he gets his sight, if they have commenced cutting his 
eyes." I gave the man the ten dollars. He had three or four 
operations performed but never received his sight. 



72 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

Near to me on Oxford street lived a poor aged widow with 
one daughter, an only child, who worked in a tailoring estab- 
lishment and supported herself and mother. The house they 
lived in was a poor one ; the rent was three dollars a month. It 
belonged to Mr. Deering. He called for his rent. The poor 
girl said: "Mr. Deering, I have the rent but I have been sick 
all the week and have not worked, and this is every cent that I 
have and I am out of wood ; if you will be so kind and let me 
keep it until next week it would be a great help to me." " I am 
very sorry for you," he said, "but I must have my rent." She 
told me that she almost fainted away and she and her mother 
burst into tears as she said, " Mother, would you have believed 
Mr. Deering would have done this ? " In the afternoon there 
came by mail to the house a five dollar bill ; a cord of wood and 
a barrel of flour were brought to the house. We all knew where 
it came from. There are many such deeds performed we know 
not of. 

Years ago there was a noted tavern out beyond Stroudwater, 
known as Broad's Tavern, where the young men of Portland 
used to ride out and have supper, and there never were better 
ones served. On one occasion the boys had been playing cards 
and some played for money. One who had lost all he had was 
walking in town. As he passed the Deering mansion the birds 
were pouring forth their loveliest songs and Old Sol was shoot- 
ing his effulgent rays over the city and its beams were shining 
through Deering's Oaks. Mr. Deering was standing down by 
the gate and said, " How do you do ? This is a very pleasant 
morning, Mr. Smith." "Pleasant to some," was the laconic 
reply, and passed on. It became known and for years Mr. 
Smith, when met by his friend, would be saluted by " Pleasant 
to some this morning." 

One day I was told that Mackworth Island had been offered 
for $800. I said to Mr. Deering, "Why don't you buy it? 'Tis 
a great bargain. "I don't think so," he said, "unless one 
wanted to live there, for the taxes and interest would soon eat 
it up." In telling this to Mayor Baxter I said, " I suppose you 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 73 

would not sell it for twenty thousand dollars now." " No, it 
won't be sold so long as there is money enough in the Baxter 
family to keep it," he answered. So you see I do not expect to 
see it change hands right away. 



ADMIRAL GEORGE TATE. 

It may be interesting to know that some of our Portland 
families are descendants of one of Russia's heroes. The Tate 
family were seated at De La Prey Abbey, Northamptonshire, 
England. Two brothers of the family were lord mayors of 
London, George in 1487 and William in 1495. 

Admiral George Tate was born in London in 1745. In early 
boyhood he was at Stroudwater with his brother Samuel, who 
was mast agent then for the king. He returned to England in 
the reign of the Empress Catherine, entered the Russian service 
and rose from the rank of a lieutenant to be first admiral and a 
member of the Imperial Senate, under Alexander I. He had 
conferred upon him the badges of the Orders of St. Waldimer, 
of St. Alexander Newski, of St. Ann, and the Military Order of 
St. John. 

Tate was at the siege of Usmale and the storming of the 
Turkish fortress at the mouth of the Danube and captured by 
the Russian General Suwarrow. He was wounded there and 
received honors for his gallantry. His last visit to Portland 
was in 18 19, two years before his death at St. Petersburg, hon- 
ored by his sovereigns and the Russian people. 

His favorite niece was Ann Tate, the wife of one of Portland's 
most benevolent citizens, Joseph Holt Ingraham, grandmother 
to ex-Mayor Ingraham. He had strong attachment for the 
town and its people and predicted that it would have a good 
future with its natural advantages as a naval seaport. 



74 ANFXDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

WILLIAM PITT FESSENDEN. 

Hon. William Pitt Fessenden was a man of great reserve, 
seldom introducing a subject for conversation, "and what he 
knew he shunned to show as hardly worth a stranger's care to 
know." He always appeared to be in a deep study, passing 
his nearest friends without noticing them. One morning Dea- 
con William Swan, one of the salt of the earth, a real old-fash- 
ioned gentleman, said, "John, you are acquainted with William 
Pitt Fessenden?" "Yes, I cut his hair often." "Don't you 
think that his success in life and people making so much of him 
has puffed him up a little too much ? I am now feeling quite 
indignant, for I have just passed him on the corner of Middle 
and Pearl streets, and I said 'Good morning, Mr. Fessenden.' 
He never deigned to notice me, and I feel it very much." I, 
as usual, full of my jokes, said: " Why, Deacon, I am surprised 
that you should have noticed that ; why he often passes me 
without noticing me, and thereby depriving himself of the 
honor. I never think of it. Why does Mr. Fessenden pass you 
without speaking to you ? You surely are his peer, socially, 
morally, and looked up to and highly respected by all. No, 
no, Deacon, he has no thought of slighting you. He is a man 
of deep meditation and at that time thinking over some case in 
court, perhaps studying out a line of defense in his next case 
before the court." 

In 1848, Mr. Joshua Dunn, a great politician and speaker in 
political campaigns, was putting forth every effort to obtain 
the appointment as postmaster. He met Mr. Fessenden and 
asked him to sign the paper. "I cannot, for two reasons," he 
answered. " First, I am pledged to support Mr. Andrew T. 
Dole for that place, and, secondly, I think you are incapable of 
filling the place." 

Mr. Dunn told me that he was speechless, and said to him- 
self : " That's what I get for all the labor I have bestowed on 
Mr. Fessenden. I have voted, worked and spoken for him. 
He was my idol ; I was his friend and I supposed he was mine, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 75 

and now when I need his support he slaps me in the face. It 
almost broke my heart. I turned and looked after him, watched 
him out of sight until he turned the corner. I stood there 
thinking and said to myself: 'Pitt, notwithstanding this hard 
blow you have given me, I love you still, and as David said, " Had 
it been an enemy that approached me I could have borne it, 
but it was thou, my friend, and I felt the blow." You have told 
me truthfully what you thought and what I might expect, unlike 
some who signed my petition, and then wrote letters to Wash- 
ington saying I was not fit for the place, and I shall keep right 
on working for you, Pitt.' " 

Remember, this was in 1848, before Mr. Fessenden's fame 
became worldwide. He was not a man to bow and scrape to 
you just before election, and not know you afterwards. I have 
met such, but he never stooped to conquer. 

On January 1, 1865, I was in Washington, D. C, shook hands 
with Abraham Lincoln, and said to him, "God bless you, Mr. 
Lincoln," and he smiled and said, "Thank you, sir." I had 
taken presidents by the hand before, yes, had taken senators 
by the nose, doctors of divinity by the ear and marked the 
symptoms of the great and glaring eyes and martial gait, but 
never before had I felt in the presence of any man as I felt 
when I looked up in the face of Abraham Lincoln. It was not 
because he was president of the United States, or any great 
intellect, but it was that nameless something that came over 
me, shall I say, overshadowed me by a spiritual influence, 
nameless evermore, but never to be forgotten. I went to Wash- 
ington supposing I had important business there, but because 
of another person I did no business, so I interpreted it that I 
was sent there to meet Abraham Lincoln by some invisible 
power, and there is no act in my life that I am more proud of 
or made a deeper impression upon me. 

While passing down Pennsylvania avenue I saw Mr. Fessen- 
den approaching. I thought to myself he won't notice me 
for he seldom does when in Portland, but to my great surprise 
he stepped in front of me, reached out his hands,- shook mine 



J 6 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

cordially and said, " What are you doing here, John ? " I 
replied, "I am not after anything," and he smiled and said, 
" You are about the only one of my former constituents whom 
I have met here who are not after something." 

He was then secretary of the treasury. He invited me to 
his office in the Treasury building. I went. He showed me 
the rooms and treated me with all the respect he would have 
shown to the governor of the state. When he arrived home I 
met him and was about to thank him for the great politeness 
he had shown me in Washington, when, to my great surprise, 
he passed and did not notice me. I was somewhat puzzled 
whether it was absent-mindedness or whether he thought famil- 
iarity might breed contempt, but this I do know, he was a man 
too noble in nature to stoop so low as not to notice a poor man 
through any foolish pride or disrespect for his fellow men. 

The following story of how Mr. Fessenden was appointed 
secretary of the treasury was told me by one of his most inti- 
mate friends : Mr. Lincoln sent for Mr. Fessenden and said, 
"Mr. Fessenden, I want you to accept the treasury secretary- 
ship." "I won't do it ; I don't know a thing about it," was the 
answer. Throwing out his long arm around his body, the pres- 
ident said : "You must accept it; the treasury must have your 
moral influence at this time, and if you think you don't know 
about it, go to Wall street, they will tell you all about it." "I 
don't want it," Mr. Fessenden answered, "but knowing the 
great burden you are under at this time, if you demand it, I 
shall accept at your command." 

GENERAL FESSENDEN. 

In 1844, when I came to Portland, I was a red hot Abol- 
itionist and General Fessenden, Pitt's father, was the acknowl- 
edged leader of that party here. It did not take long to find 
out in those days who were for freeing the slaves of the south 
and who were not, for party feelings ran high at that time, and 
I soon became acquainted with the general. My first vote for 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS J J 

president was thrown that year, for General Burney, the Abol- 
itionist candidate, but James K. Polk was elected. The general 
continued a customer of mine as long as he lived, and he lived 
for many years. He was considered the chief civil engineer 
who laid out the underground railroad through to Canada, and 
there never was a poor fugitive slave who came to him for cash 
or ticket over that route but what was helped along. 

One day after the passage of the fugitive slave law he came 
in the shop and said, " John, have you read the papers this 
morning?" I replied I had not. "Well, I want you to, and 
be sure and read that abominable fugitive slave law, just passed 
by Congress, and a part of my errand here, for this is a public 
place and you a talker, is that I want you to advertise it 
throughout the city that Samuel Fessenden spits upon that law 
and tramples it under his feet, and never will obey it ! " 

"What," I said, " General, do you advise people to violate 
the laws that Congress passes ? " "I do advise it, for when- 
ever man passes a law that is in violation of God's law that is 
written in our hearts, and against the law of humanity, I shall 
obey the law written on the tablet of my heart, in spite of all 
the man-made statutes, for when a man, rich or poor, bond or 
free, calls at my door and asks for bread he will get it sure, in 
spite of the fugitive slave law that forbids it." 

" Then you are not for liberty regulated by law, but anarchy? " 
" Yes, I am, John ; but that law is not regulating liberty by law, 
but an effort to regulate slavery by law, and I spit upon it. I 
am in rebellion against it, that is revolution. The right of 
revolution belongs to every man, but he must take the conse- 
quences of his actions. I am ready to." I was in doubt as to 
the correctness of that logic. "Wait a moment and consider, 
John," he said. " Were not Washington, Hancock, Adams, 
Otis and Patrick Henry rebels against the laws of George the 
Third, and would not all have hanged ? As Franklin said, 
'We must stand together or all will be hanged together.' And 
by that immortal utterance breathing forth the true spirit of 
freedom and of a free man, spoken by Patrick Henry when he 



j8 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

said, ' Give me liberty or give me death,' and I want that lib- 
erty for myself and for every other man upon the earth," said 
the general. 

At an abolition meeting and supper held in the colored 
peoples' church on Newbury, then Sumner street, General Fes- 
senden presided. One very enthusiastic brother, wishing to 
express his great love and respect he had for the general for 
his great labor in behalf of the African race, gave this toast : 
" Here is to General Fessenden, de white man wid de black 
heart." Of course the pro-slavery crowd had great sport over 
it. The brother meant that the general's heart was as much 
African as their own in the cause of freeing their brothers from 
bondage. 

The general, noticing that I read a great deal, said to me : 
"I see you read much, and for pleasure. It is true, you are 
getting a good use of language. I notice you read much poetry. 
That is well enough in its way, but you should not spend so 
much time in that kind of reading. I want you to study some 
profession that will give you a means of support. I will tell 
you what I want you to do. I will furnish you with books and 
hear you recite your lessons. You will commence with Black- 
stone to-morrow morning and we will take years if need be ; I 
will surprise the bar of Cumberland, for with your great memory 
and love of study you will be well equipped for the ordeal, and 
I have no doubt I should be proud of my pupil." 

I just laughed and said, "General, I went aboard ship at 
thirteen years of age. I have had no schooling, am not edu- 
cated for the law." " That is just what I propose to do, educate 
you," he said. "Why, I would have to study Latin." "Non- 
sense, I can teach you in three weeks all the Latin necessary 
for a lawyer to begin with," was the answer. "Well, by the 
way, General, I have a little start already in Latin. I have, E 
pluribus unum, multum in parvo." "Well, that will do, John, 
for the present." " You said you would astonish the Cumber- 
land bar in five years," I went on. " That may be so, General, 
but if you let me go on with my poetry, I may be before the 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 79 

bar and surprise them before that time." " But lay your joking 
aside," he said. " I want you to do what I have proposed to 
you. Law is an honorable profession." 

" That is so, General," was my answer, " but just before you 
came in I was reading Alexander Pope, where he said, ' Honor 
and fame from no condition rise, act well your part there all the 
honor lies ' ; and you know, for I have just shaved you, that I 
am acting my part well." And I was foolish enough to refuse 
the offer of that grand benevolent man, and here I am stropping 
my razors still. But, then, who can tell whether it was better or 
not, for if I had accepted the offer of that grand man, the world 
might have been deprived of this book, and how could I answer 
for such a neglect when called to judgment ? 

THOMAS AMORY DEBLOIS. 

General Fessenden had a law partner, Thomas A. Deblois, who 
was a character. He never presumed to know anything about 
another's business. One day he came in and sat down, saying, 
11 Cut my hair." u How do you want it cut," I asked, " short or 
medium ? " " Don't you know ? If you do not, I will go over 
to Tukey's or Dam's." 

One day he went into Lowell & Senter's, jewelers, took out 
his watch and laid it down. "Fix my watch, Senter," he said. 
"When can I have it?" " What is the matter with it ? " said 
Mr. Senter. " Can't you tell ? If you cannot I will take it 
over to Mr. Gerrish, perhaps he may know, or find out." 

He was taken very sick, and one morning the general sent 
the office boy up to see how he was. At that time he was 
boarding at Mrs. Jones', a very popular house that stood where 
the Lafayette now stands. The boy said, " The general wants 
to know how you are this morning." "Tell the general I don't 

know a d thing about it, the doctor will be here at ten 

o'clock and inform me, and then I will send the general word 
at once." 

He was an odd stick, as the saying is. He was an English- 
man by birth. 



SO ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

JOHN B. COYLE. 

The late John B. Coyle, if not the founder of the steamboat 
line from Portland to Boston, did more to keep it up than any 
other man. He was an all round man and possessed that cast 
of wisdom known as common sense. He was a man who was 
looked up to, highly respected and consulted upon all import- 
ant questions, and was a most original character. He was in 
religious belief an Episcopalian and attended the St. Stephen's 
church on Pearl street, Rev. James Pratt, pastor ; but he was 
no sectarian. His wife was a Methodist, and he attended there 
with her often. One time Dr. Pratt and the captain were hav- 
ing a sharp discussion upon some theological point, when Mr. 
Pratt said : " Why, Captain Coyle, Paul said so and so, right 
opposite from what you say." " Does he ? " answered the cap- 
tain. "Well, then, I beg to differ from Brother Paul." Mr. 
Pratt burst out laughing, and it went all around that Captain 
Coyle differed from St. Paul upon a theological point, and it 
caused a great deal of merriment to think the captain differed 
from so high an authority. At that time it was considered high 
treason to doubt the word or question anything said by the 
clergy ; but that was before the new translation or the higher 
criticism. 

Captain Coyle superintended the building of all the side- 
wheel boats the Boston and Portland line built until he passed 
away. He refused to have a boat named for himself while liv- 
ing, but I think the Governor Dingley should have been named 
the John B. Coyle, for he did more for that line than, I was 
about to write, all others combined. But it is too often the case 
that great merit and great men pass by unhonored and unsung. 

I had the occasion to raise money to pay the admission of 
an old lady into the Aged Women's Home. The captain put 
down five dollars. I raised the amount and notified the lady's 
sister that I was ready to pay the admittance fee. She said 
her sister could not get ready before six weeks to go in, so I 
deposited the money. In a few days the sister's husband came 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 8 1 

and demanded the money. He said he was ready to put his 
sister in the home. I had heard, after raising the money, that 
he had money of his own deposited in the savings bank, three 
times the amount I had raised to place his sister in the home, 
but he preferred that I should go around and solicit the money 
from the generous citizens of Portland. I told him I had no 
money for him. He wanted to know if I had not raised any, 
and I said I had. 

" What have you done with it? " he asked. I told him I had 
disposed of it. I saw he was offended. He was not a great 
man, although he had money on deposit; but he was not the 
only man I had met who had money in a bank who was not a 
great man, so it did not frighten me a bit. He struck a bee 
line for the Advertiser office and told Mr. Richardson, who was 
then editor, all about it and wanted him to publish me as a 
defaulter. Mr. Richardson told him he would not give my 
name until he saw me, but he would state that a well-known 
citizen had collected funds and spent it. So he did. Of course 
those who had subscribed to the cause thought it might be my 
case, as it was. The next day the captain came in to be shaved. 
"I saw in the Advertiser" he said, "that somebody has been 
embezzling funds that they collected to help an old lady to the 
home v I hope my five was not among it. If it was I will put 
in five more ; five to help her in the home and five to keep you 
out of jail." " Well, Captain," I said, " pass over the other five, 
for that paragraph you read meant me." " How is that ? " he 
asked. I explained as soon as I read the paper I knew the 
poor ignoramus had published it abroad, so I drew the money, 
went to the treasurer, Mrs. Dr. Burr. I think, took her receipt, 
showed it to the editor, and in the next issue of the paper Mr. 
Richardson said the paragraph of the night before in regard to 
the money collected to place an old lady in the home, was a 
mistake, for he had seen the treasurer's receipt where it had 
been received by her. I never asked the captain for a dollar 
for any charitable purpose but I received it. 

When Captain Coyle was a boy he was bound out to a shoe- 



82 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

maker, an Irishman, for seven years. He worked two or three 
years, long enough for him to know he was not born to make 
shoes, for he said, " I could mend, but never could learn to 
make one." So he ran away. This was in Connecticut. He 
went to New York city and there he shipped as a deckhand. 
He was soon promoted to fireman, then to second engineer, 
from that to first engineer, and in that capacity he arrived here 
in Portland aboard the first steamer that ever arrived here, I 
think her name was the McDonough or McDonnell, and here 
he spent his long, active and most useful life. After he became 
wealthy and in the prime of manhood, he remembered his old 
boss, also an aged schoolmistress whom he told me labored 
hard and long to teach him his letters, for he said he was the 
biggest numbskull there was in the state. That is not to be 
wondered at, for great minds are never precocious, but are slow 
in developing. I have had some experience in that particular 
myself. He had kept posted in regard to the old home town, 
and he also heard of the old cobbler and his patient school- 
mistress who, he finally learned, was in the poorhouse. 

One morning he appeared before his old boss, the cobbler, 
an old, infirm man. Captain Coyle had heard the old cobbler 
had a mortgage on his house for six hundred dollars. He 
commenced chatting with the old man and found him very 
communicative. He asked him if he ever had a boy w T hom he 
tried to learn to make shoes, by the name of Coyle. Yes, he 
had, but he ran away, and he heard several years ago that 
he went steamboating way down East and did well. He said he 
was a good boy but was not gifted as a shoemaker and he had 
no doubt it was the best thing the boy could do to run away, 
for to sit on the bench all of his days pounding away as he had 
done, and get nothing for it, was not much better than slavery. 
The captain asked him if he owned his home. He said yes, 
with the exception of six hundred dollars, and it would be a 
rather hard job for him at his time of life to pay for it, but was 
doing the best he could. The captain asked him how much he 
thought his apprentice, Coyle, would have earned him if he had 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 83 

served his time out. He said that depended on several things, 
how the boy behaved, how good a workman he was and how 
business might be, but for the first two or three years it was 
expected a boy could hardly pay his way. If anything was to 
be made it was on the last two or three years. He asked if he 
thought if. the boy had served his time he would have earned 
him six hundred dollars. He said possibly he might. "Well," 
said Captain Coyle, "you go with me." They found the man 
who held the mortgage and the captain paid it. The captain 
said to me : " When I left the old boss he held me by the hand, 
with tears streaming down his cheeks, and said, ' John, I have 
found one honest man; God bless you,' and He has. I left 
thinking I had made two men happy, by giving them legal tend- 
er, thereby redeeming the poor man from the curse of the law, 
and I redeemed by the love of Christ, shed abroad in my heart, 
that prompted me to do the act of love and righteousness." 

A few years later he had another call to Connecticut. He 
heard that his old lady teacher was in the poorhouse, and went 
up from New York to inquire about it. He found an aged sister 
of the teacher. She told him that they had lived together for 
years, but now their funds had failed and one of them had to 
go to the poorhouse, " and we had to be separated. I would 
have gone, but she would not let me, preferring to go instead." 
The captain asked her if she would like to have her board with 
her. She said that nothing would make her more happy. 
" What could you board her for and make her comfortable ? " 
She thought she could for two dollars a week. He said that 
three would be better. He gave her some money, but didn't 
tell me the amount, and saw the old lady removed to the sister's 
home. Every month after the money arrived as long as the 
teacher lived. He said to me, " She had earned it, for it was 
no small task to teach me the alphabet." 

Go on, Rockefeller, build high your edifices, your seminaries 
and colleges. Crowd full the heads of the young with the jar- 
gons of your schools, your Latin names for horns and stools. 
If honest nature has made them fools, what good is your gram- 



84 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

mar ? In the times of poverty and suffering I prefer the cap- 
tain's methods of doing business and relieving humanity to the 
other way. 

A few years before Captain Coyle left us for the " Gates 
Ajar," he had purchased a forty dollar overcoat for the approach- 
ing winter. There was a Methodist convention here at the time 
and some of the clergy stopped at the Coyle mansion. It came 
off very cold the night the meeting closed. One of the minis- 
ters had no overcoat, so Mrs. Coyle urged him to take one of 
the captain's to wear home and he could return it by express. 
A month or six weeks passed away. Mrs. Coyle had not 
thought of it, and the captain knew nothing about it. One cold 
day he went for his new overcoat and it was gone. " Where is 
my new overcoat, Mrs. Coyle ? " he asked. " Is it not there ? " 
she said. "No? Well, I don't know where it is then ; no one 
has stolen it. Oh, it is possible I let Brother Blank wear that 
new coat away, but did not notice it was your new one. It 
must have been." 

The captain wrote the clergyman. He wrote back that he 
was not aware the night he borrowed it that it was so nice a 
one, or that the fit was so perfect, and he had come to the con- 
clusion it must have been a gift from the Lord, and he had 
concluded to keep it. The captain was mad. He thought it 
sheer gall. He said that he liked a joke, but forty dollars 
apiece for them was rather high. 



DR. WILLIAM DWIGHT. 

Dr. William Dwight was a famous preacher in Portland, a 
very peculiar man, an old school orthodox divine, who believed 
the Lord would endlessly damn the sinner, and that we should 
commence here and give them a little foretaste of it. He 
believed in Moses and in hanging. He also believed that " He 
that spareth the rod hateth his son " (Prov. 13-24); "But he 
that loveth him, chasteneth him betimes." When the parson 
promised his son a whipping, and Tom told the boys of it, as 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 85 

he usually did, the boys would go down from school to hear 
Tom "holler," for the doctor did not half do a thing. 

The doctor once gave out word that he should on a certain 
evening preach a sermon against spiritualism. Of course most 
of his church members were there, and so were the Spiritualists. 
He took for his text, Deut. 27-29, "The secret things belong 
unto the Lord, our God." His discourse was an able one. 
When he closed, Benjamin Danforth, an old Methodist minister, 
a man six feet and two inches tall, rose, and with a stentorian 
voice said: " Doctor Dwight." "I cannot be interrupted," said 
the doctor. " Dr. Dwight," the elder went on, "will you please 
read the other two lines of that text which says: 'The secret 
things belong unto the Lord, thy God, but the things that are 
revealed belong unto us and our children forever,' and spirit- 
ualism is what has been revealed to us." 

Not at all disturbed, the doctor spread out his arms and said, 
"Let us pray." 

The doctor pronounced the benediction and said, " The 
meeting is now closed." His church members were all well 
pleased with the sermon, and the Spiritualists more than pleased 
to know that the other two lines had been read. They hinted 
that the doctor was afraid to read the whole text, fearing that 
the two lines might reveal too much and there might be more 
revealed. 

Soon after that the Hon. Jabez C. Woodman, Esq., replied 
to Dr. Dwight's discourse and it was published in pamphlet 
form. It was accepted as the ablest defense from a Biblical 
point of view that the Spiritualist had ever published. There 
were warm times in those days upon the subject of the return 
of our departed friends. The belief has become more common 
since. 

The doctor had a son, an enthusiastic young man, perhaps 
not so guarded in his speech, as he would have been if eighty- 
four or five years had passed over his head. He was in college. 
The boarding mistress hearing he was the son of Dr. Dwight, 
said to him : " You are the son of Dr. Dwight, are you not ? " He 



86 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

straightened up with all the dignity of royalty and said : "I am 
the son of two Dr. Dwights, my grandfather was a doctor of 
divinity also, and God willing, I shall excel them both." The 
students got onto it and after that his college name was " God 
willing " Dwight. 

The doctor once took his broken cane to Lowell & Senter, 
our late and much honored Mayor Senter, who had a great 
admiration for dogs and generally owned as good a one as was 
to be found. The doctor threw his cane upon the counter and 
said: "Senter, can you mend that cane? That is the third 
cane I have broken over the dumb dogs' heads this summer." 
Senter told me that he was so indignant at the expression and 
the spirit the doctor manifested, his first thought was to refuse 
to mend the cane. He said: "I turned my eyes toward my 
pet dog, lying so peacefully on the floor with his eyes firmly 
fixed upon the doctor, and fancied he was saying to himself, 
1 Doctor, if you carried about you the spirit of your Master, we 
poor dogs would not bark at you and you would have no canes 
to mend and pay for.' " 

During the winter of 1855 there was a young man in the 
Portland jail. At that time it stood in the rear of the city 
building, opposite Dr. Dwight's house. This prisoner belonged 
to one of the first families in Portland, and was a resident of 
State street. He was a bright and well educated young fellow, 
but sometimes would indulge a little too much in the " Oh be 
joyful," and that accounted for his residing that winter in the 
lockup. One morning the doctor, in glancing over to the jail, 
saw hanging out of a window of the cell occupied by the young 
man, a large sheet of pasteboard, two feet square, with these 
words printed upon it: "Matthew 25-34. Sick and in prison 
and ye visited me not." The next morning you could have 
seen hung out of the doctor's window opposite the jail, a similar 
sheet of pasteboard with this written upon it: " Prov. 13-15. 
The way of the transgressor is hard." 

The aged doctor was a grand man, unyielding in will, and I 
was about to say, unscrupulous in his methods of forwarding 
the truth as he understood it. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 8j 



PARSON BRADLEY. 

Parson Bradley, who lived and preached at Bradley's Corner, 
and for whom the Corner was named, was a character. 

There was a company of young men who had been out at 
Broad Tavern one Saturday night, who had been gambling and 
as the game went on it became very interesting, so they played 
until about two o'clock Sunday morning. They were not 
intending to play after twelve o'clock, however, and when they 
discovered their mistake, having been young men of good bring- 
ing up, one of them said: "Well, this money that we have won 
since twelve o'clock let us turn over to Parson Bradley." While 
coming into the city they had to pass his house. They rang the 
bell, and when answered by the parson, they informed him that 
they had quite a sum of money for him that they had won at 
gambling after twelve o'clock Saturday night. "As we did not 
feel like keeping it ourselves," said one, " that amount we won 
after twelve o'clock, we thought we would give it to you." The 
parson counted it, saw it was quite a sum, and looking up with 
his inimitable smile, said, " Boys, why didn't you play a little 
longer." This was before the days of the tainted money 
discussions. 

He was sent for at one time to preach in the town of Scar- 
borough. There was a great drought at that time and the meet- 
ing was called especially as a prayer meeting to pray for rain. 
The meeting was in a church located in a neighborhood where 
the farms had been much neglected. The parson prayed fer- 
vently for rain. Then he earnestly prayed that the thoughts 
of the farmers might be awakened and their souls become afire 
with the thought and necessity of working in conjunction with 
the divine will, and to study diligently into the laws as witnessed 
throughout nature's vast domain. " Give and take, supply and 
demand, ask and ye shall receive are but the flat of the Almighty. 
And while riding past your farms to-day I witnessed their 
parched condition and their barren aspect, and^I fancied that I 



88 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

heard those parched fields praying to thee O, Lord, that thou 
mayest send forth those life giving showers, that we this day 
are praying for, and as I listened to the dear songsters of the 
woods pouring forth their sweetest melodies to thee, making 
the woods ring with their songs, and I will call them prayers 
ascending to thy throne, and, O, Lord, permit me to remind my 
hearers once more to labor in unison with thee in thy great 
plan of redemption, in the restoration of all nature in harmony 
with thy will, and although thou hast promised them seed time 
and harvest, still they have a duty to perform, and thou will not 
bestow upon us rich harvest it not being in accordance with 
thy divine law unless they provide their fields with proper 
dressing that vegetation demands in order that seed time and 
harvest may come." 

Parson Bradley exchanged pulpits once with the Rev. Mr. 
Hobart of Yarmouth. When he arrived home in the evening, 
while passing his window, he saw Mr. Hobart and his wife 
sitting in the parlor conversing. He, as usual, full of his 
fun, thought he would play a joke on the dignified Hobart, 
who never did nor could fully understand the meaning of a 
joke. The parson passed up the back way and went to bed, 
leaving the Rev. Hobart and Mrs. Bradley sitting in the parlor. 
They sat there till after twelve o'clock. They became quite 
alarmed at his long delay. At last Mrs. Bradley, who had 
lived with the parson for over forty years and had learned many 
of his gentle pranks, went to his room. There she found him 
fast asleep. Almost enraged she shook him quite violently and 
said, "Why, husband, do you realize what you have done in 
going to bed in this manner?" "Certainly, my dear, I have 
always gotten in bed the same way." "Are you aware that 
Mr. Hobart is sitting in the parlor?" "Why, no, for I 
supposed he and you were old enough to know when to 
retire." 

It was hinted long after that the Yarmouth divine had not 
fully forgiven the parson. Fifty years ago the city folk expected 
a new joke from the elder about every day. I can appropri- 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 89 

ately apply the words of Hamlet to the parson. Hamlet held 
the skull in his hand and said : 

" Alas, poor Yorick, I knew him well, Horatio, 
He was a fellow of infinite jest." 



HON. GEORGE EVANS. 

Hon. George Evans was born in 1797. He lived in Gardiner, 
Me. He graduated at Bowdoin College in 181 5, read law with 
the distinguished practitioner, Frederick Allen of Gardiner, and 
entered on his profession at the early age of twenty-one years. 
He came to Portland in 1854, and remained here until the time 
of his departure to a higher life in 1867. His office was at the 
corner of Middle and Exchange streets, in the Boyd block, 
under the firm name of Evans & Putnam, our present Judge 
Putnam. They were burned out in the great fire of 1866. I 
had the good fortune of having a room across the hallway, 
opposite theirs, and Mr. Evans was in my room about every 
day, either to be shaved or when weary and wanting a little 
respite from his books. He would come in, throw himself on 
my sofa or in a barber's chair and rest awhile. I think it was 
in 1859 that the late Captain John A. Holmes was being tried 
for murdering a sailor by the name of Chadwick, a most brutal 
murder. Mr. Evans and Judge Putnam were his counsel. I 
became deeply interested in the case, and visited the prisoner 
twice a week, often shaved him and cut his hair, and afterwards 
received much abuse from those I called upon, while carrying 
around a petition to be signed, to have his sentence commuted 
to imprisonment for life instead of being hung. My friends 
would say "get out of here," when I asked them to sign it. 
" Don't you ask me to sign that, I will sign one to hang him." 
One old deacon of a Congregational church chided me and said, 
" No, for it may be for his soul's salvation to hang him." I 
could not see just how hanging a man could save his soul. 
However, I got three hundred signers to the petition, but I 
never knew of such hard feeling against a prisoner as on that 



90 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

occasion. I heard the arguments at that trial. Everyone knew 
that Mr. Evans had no chance to win, for his whole defence 
rested upon the sanity of Captain Holmes at the time of the 
murder, but he made one of the greatest pleas that ever was 
made. The Hon. George F. Shepley was the United States 
attorney who conducted the prosecution, and at that time the 
most popular young man in the city. He had the sympathy of 
most of those present, and he well knew who the opposing 
counsel was, and what he would have to meet. No prisoner 
was ever held up to the scorn and contempt of men as was this 
man on that occasion. I will quote from memory one sentence 
uttered. Pointing to the prisoner he said, "That criminal sitting 
there," shaking his finger in his face, "from the time that the 
ship left Pernambuco until she arrived at New York, made that 
ship's deck a hell." 

Captain Holmes was convicted of murder in the first degree, 
tried under the United States law, and that meant hanging. In 
a short time Mr. Evans went to Washington to try and save the 
criminal's life by commutation. He told me that the president 
and himself, when he was in the senate, were great friends, and 
he knew he would do anything for him consistent with his sworn 
duty ; he thought he could so present the case to the president 
that he would commute his sentence, hoping that he had not 
read the trial, for at that time Buchanan was the busiest man 
in America, trying to prevent the hot bloods of the south from 
going into secession and thereby prevent the war. 

On Mr. Evans' return from Washington he told me that he 
stooped lower than he ever thought it possible for him to do, 
and nothing but the saving of the life of a fellow-being would 
have prompted him to have done so. "When I stepped into 
the room of the president he told me to sit down. He arose? 
took me by the hand most cordially, and said, ' I am glad to 
see you, Mr. Evans, still I am sorry to meet you, for I have 
read that trial with great interest, partly because you were his 
counsel, partly because of its atrocity.' I never was more 
embarrassed in my life. My right bower of defense was gone, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 9 1 

for I had felt sure that he had overlooked the trial because of 
the great burdens of state he was laboring under. He was not 
ignorant of the facts in the case. I said, 'Mr. President, I 
know Captain Holmes was insane at that time.' 'Yes, I am 
aware of that, an insanity induced by liquor.' He looked me 
in the face and said, with great emphasis, ' George, I will sign 
that petition if you can accept it on one condition, that is know- 
ing I break my official oath.' I stood looking him squarely in 
the face, and said, 'Mr. President, I shall accept it under any 
condition, for I feel that he was irresponsible at the time.' " 

Mr. Evans told me the president turned red as fire, took the 
paper, signed it, and pas'sed it to him without a word. "I took 
the paper," he said, "and left the room, and I suppose we 
parted never to meet again upon earth." 

I felt sure then, and I think now, it was the noblest act of his 
life. Some may think differently, but he saved a fellow-being's 
life. Two years afterwards President Lincoln, with great pres- 
sure being brought to bear upon the case, pardoned him. He 
went to Cardiff, Wales, opened a ship chandlery store, and 
prospered. I received several letters from him while there. I 
think that all who took part in that trial, except Judge Putnam, 
have gone over the so-called dark river. 

When in the senate Mr. Evans was considered the peer of 
such men as Webster, Calhoun, Benton and Clay. There was 
a point of law raised by Mr. Evans in the trial of Holmes where 
the court ruled against him, and Mr. Buchanan sided with the 
court. Since then, however, the Supreme Court of the United 
States has ruled upon this point, raised by Mr. Evans, and their 
decision coincided with the view taken by him at that trial. 



JOHN B. BROWN. 

John B. Brown was born in the town of Lancaster, N. H., in 
the year 1805 ; he came to Portland in 1825 and passed away 
in 1 88 1. He begun business here as a clerk with Deacon 
Alpheus Shaw in the grocery business and later went into busi- 



92 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

ness for himself in Morton block on Congress street, a few 
doors above the Preble house. After that he moved into a 
store that stood on the corner of Center and Congress streets, 
and soon after bought the property and built the Lancaster 
Hall. In the early forties he and St. John Smith kept store in 
the south corner of the old City Hall, where the Soldiers' Monu- 
ment now stands. From there he moved to Fore near Exchange 
street. The firm name was John B. Brown & Co., Jedediah 
Jewett being the company. Mr. Jewett afterwards became 
mayor and later was collector of customs. Late in the forties 
Mr. Brown started his great sugar house on York street, near 
Maple. 

The new and elegant block at the corner of Congress and 
Center streets, and occupied by Loring, Short & Harmon, was 
erected by Mr. Brown's sons to his memory. In the summer 
of 1845 I worked in a shop in Market Square, now Monument 
Square, opposite old City Hall, where the Evening Express 
office now is. The first floor of City Hall was the store of the 
late John B. Brown and the late St. John Smith, the firm's name 
Smith & Brown, a firm doing the largest business in the state. 
Had I the data to give I should not be believed should I relate 
the number of teams and the amount of goods that daily left 
that store. At that time there were no railroads coming to or 
going from Portland except the Eastern branch of the Boston 
& Portland, with its most popular conductor, the late Ansel 
Tucker, father of the late Payson Tucker, who at that time had 
to hustle to get the cars through from city to city in five hours, 
they leaving at seven o'clock and arriving in Boston at twelve 
o'clock, noon, then considered quick time. At that time all 
goods sent from Portland had to be shipped by teams drawn 
by oxen or horses, or shipped by vessels. But to the west and 
north all goods had to be sent by teams, and you could not 
ride out of the city on any of those roads fifteen minutes with- 
out meeting a team with from two to six horses, and they made 
a big dust too, so that it made it rather unpleasant riding. 
Those teams came from Vermont, New Hampshire and Maine, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 93 

and Smith & Brown sent more goods into Vermont and New 
Hampshire than all the rest of the merchants in the city. Not 
long after that, I think the next year, Mr. Brown established 
his great sugar manufacturing house on York street and there 
made money very fast. 

About that time, in '46 or '47, came the crucial test of his 
business career, that gave an opportunity for him to show his 
power over men and the power of his indomitable will. There 
was a firm in Boston by the name of Greely, Giles & Co. Mr. 
Greely was a brother-in-law to Mr. Brown. They failed and 
Mr. Brown was on their paper for $50,000. Mr. Brown was 
owing the bank of Portland at that time $60,000. To carry 
him over this unexpected debt of the Boston firm, he must have 
$50,000 more. He presented his note for that amount to the 
Canal Bank. He showed the directors a long inventory of his 
real estate which was more than enough to cover all his indebt- 
edness. But the directors concluded not to discount the note. 
Now, my old friend, Deacon Swan, was doomed once more to 
have his sensitive nature shocked. Soon Mr. Brown came in 
to learn of their decision. Captain Osgood, the president of 
the bank, not wishing to offend or wishing to explain, did not 
let the note go to the paying teller to pass it to Mr. Brown, but 
kept it in the directors' room until Mr. Brown came in when he 
passed him the note. "Then you have decided not to take my 
note," he asked. " That is the conclusion we have arrived at," 
he said. With eyes flashing fire and face highly flushed, look- 
ing them square in the face, he said, " You can go to hell, gen- 
tlemen," and left the room. 

In a few moments the deacon came in, very nervous. "What 
is the matter, Deacon ? " was asked. " Matter ! " he repeated, 
" I have been grossly insulted, John, yes, insulted, and by no 
less a man than John B. Brown. I can hardly believe my own 
ears." "Why, Deacon," was the answer, "I don't know what 
you can mean, for Mr. Brown would not insult you." " I don't 
wonder you think so," said the deacon, "but Mr. Brown not 
only insulted me but every gentleman on the board of directors 



94 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

of the Canal Bank, because after we had carefully considered 
the question of discounting his note and told him we could not 
take it for so large an amount in addition to what he already- 
owed, he turned upon us and, with great vehemence, said, 

' You can go to .' I won't repeat it, John, but we could 

go to a country where the temperature is much higher than in 
Portland." 

In the afternoon the directors of the three largest banks met 
together and sent for Mr. Brown, informing him that the direct- 
ors of the three banks had concluded to discount his note, 
dividing the amount between them. It was thought at the time, 
for I heard it talked once by one leading merchant, that had 
Mr. Brown shown the white feather at that time he would not 
have received the money, but that a strong magnetic power 
that he possessed, enforced by his unconquerable will, caused 
them to reconsider the case and to conclude to take the note. 
At that time there were no roads leading west or north to the 
States of New Hampshire or Vermont but what if you should 
ride upon them all the afternoon and ask the drivers of the 
teams you met where they were bound and who was to have 
the wares and goods, the answer would be Smith & Brown. I 
believe they were the first firm who shipped patent farming 
implements, such as Kendall & Whitney now keep, that were 
sold to the farmers of those three states, and it was hard work 
then to sell an article to a farmer that was different from the 
ones that their great grandfathers used, but for all that preju- 
dice they took the risk and introduced them. So much for his 
business methods, that I knew but little about, but now I will 
write some things that I do know. 

It was generally supposed, and I had heard it said, that Mr. 
Brown was a man of no great feeling, no sympathy for his race, 
with an overbearing manner and a " get-out-of-my-way " sort of 
disposition. When I first knew him I used to feel that I should 
give him most of the sidewalk when I met him, but how differ- 
ent I found him when I became better acquainted. How often 
have I found myself mistaken in regard to my neighbors and 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 95 

acquaintances after living by them for years. Some little trivial 
thing would transpire that brought us nearer together and I 
found out that the man I had carried in my mind for years was 
not the real one. 

There was an acquaintance of mine, sick and poor, who was 
upon his deathbed; he said to me, "Are you acquainted with 
Mr. John B. Brown ? " " Yes, as a customer," I answered, "no 
more." "I want you to go to him," he said, "tell him of my 
circumstances and ask him to help me to ten dollars." " Is 
there no one else I could go to for ten? " I asked; "I don't 
like to ask him, I shall not get it." "You don't know Mr. 
Brown," he said, "as well as I do. Please do my errand. It 
won't compromise you at all." So I went. Mr. Brown was 
writing at his desk, and as I entered he looked up. " Good 
morning, John," he said and kept on writing. I had a half 
mind to leave when he looked up with that commanding manner 
of his. " What is wanted ? " he said. Well, if I had spoken as 
I felt I should have said I want to go home, but I mustered 
courage and did my errand. He suddenly turned his chair 
around, saying, "What, is he in straitened circumstances ? " and 
threw me a ten dollar bill. " Don't let him want for anything. 
Tell him I will call and see him. Good morning, John." 

I had several occasions after that to learn of Mr. Brown's 
kindness. He said to me one day, "John, who pays you for 
your labor in this work? " I replied, "The Lord." " Do you 
have a settlement often ? " " Every day, Mr. Brown," I replied. 
He smiled at my ready answer. One pleasant Sunday morning 
in June I took my six years old granddaughter to walk. She 
had never seen Mr. Brown's beautiful grounds on the Western 
promenade. She was a child very fond of flowers. I lived on 
the dump and the roses were not plenty there. The soil was 
not adapted to them. The child could not fully understand 
why I did not give her some flowers or allow her to pick one. 
Just before reaching the mansion from the north gate I met a 
fine appearing gentleman coming from the eastern entrance. 
I was well dressed, wearing a tall silk hat and kid gloves. I 



96 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

was quite a dude in those days. The gentleman stopped, 
raised his hat and said in a deferential manner, " Are these 
your grounds, sir? They are the finest I have ever seen." 
" No sir, I hope not," I answered. " Hope not, what do you 
mean by that, sir?" he said. "I mean this, for I was just 
thinking before I met you how loath I should be to leave this 
Heavenly spot if called to leave it, especially as I do not know 
whether I should have as fine a place on the other side of 
Jordan." We talked for some time. I told him of the owner, 
Mr. Brown, and of his great business ability. He said he was 
a stranger from New Orleans. We bid each other good morn- 
ing and parted. I said facetiously that I was glad I was not 
the owner of those grounds. I have thought many a time since, 
why did I say so foolish a thing to a stranger. Do we not 
speak sometimes wiser than we know, for surely I did on that 
occasion. I said I did not wish to be the owner of those 
grounds, for what will not a man give in exchange for his life. 
The next winter, January 8, seven months after that, Mr. 
Brown fell near the spot where I stood when I said I did not 
wish to be the owner. I could not have known that the owner 
was soon to be called hence. The reader will say that is not 
relevant. I don't know that it is. I have stated a truth in 
connection with my narration. Was it a coincidence or an 
unconscious prophecy, and, in the language of Shakespeare, 
do coming events cast their shadows before ? As I was pass- 
ing the mansion, Mr. Brown stood near where I passed. He 
said, " Good morning, whose child is this ? " taking her hand 
and adding, " She is a picture," and I thought so too. He 
picked some flowers and gave her. She thanked him and so 
did I, most heartily, for I did want her to have a rose. As we 
passed on she said, " Grandpa, why didn't you give me one ? " 
I told her they were not mine to give and it would be wrong 
for me to take them and that she was too young to understand 
the law of ownership and the nice distinction between thine 
and mine. And in fact, perhaps, I might not be able to do so 
myself. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 97 

THE WISE SIRE. 

(Nixon Waterman in Puck.) 

[Now, my dear child, I will tell you about those beautiful flowers we 
saw in Mr. Brown's garden, and w T hy I did not give you one ; I will tell you 
all I know about them in this poem.] 

Come hither my child, come sit on my knee, 

Till I tell you as well as I can, 
About all these wonderful things which we see 

That appeal to the reason of man. 
From our home on the earth we see many a star 

And a sun that makes golden the sky, 
But you are so young you don't know what they are, 

And, candidly, neither do I. 
They are really too much for your poor little brain 

Are the puzzles you are certain to meet; 
Why is one flower spotted, another one plain ? 

What makes the fruit sour or sweet ? 
What keeps the sun shining? What causes the tides ? 

What holds all the planets on high? 
You've found for these questions, and many besides, 

No answer, and neither have I. 
Which first had its being, the egg or the hen ? 

Solve that puzzle for me if you please. 
Did men spring from monkeys or monkeys from men ? 

Oh ! all such grave matters as these 
Are, truly, too deep for a young girl like you 

To solve, though you earnestly try, 
For I never have met anybody that knew 

Their answers, and neither do I. 
In short, my dear child, though your grandpa is wise 

As most other men, he has found 
That while to acquire much learning he tries, 

His wisdom is not so profound. 
I boast a good deal and I make quite a show 

Of my poor little portion of brains, 
But down in my heart I'm aware that I know 

Just enough to go in when it rains. 

Mr. Brown was born to command, a natural leader of men. 
For him to lead was to be followed, i used to hear it said in 
my shop: " Is Mr. Brown in favor of it? If so, it will go." 



98 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

He was foremost in every work that would help forward the 
interest of Portland. As Mr. Noyes of the Portland Savings 
Bank said to me : " Portland does not now fully realize the 
great loss Mr. Brown is to Portland, especially to the business 
interest of the city." He was a great leader and in case of 
every enterprise that his judgment approved, he would put his 
shoulder to the wheel and start it forward to its destined com- 
pletion. 

"UNCLE DUNN." 

Joshua Dunn was born in Hollis, and reared in Buxton. Mr. 
Dunn's mother passed away while he was a child. His grand- 
mother brought him up ; he received no whippings or scold- 
ings, ''lord of himself, that heritage of woe." At thirteen, he 
bid adieu forever to poor old grandma. She filled his pockets 
with doughnuts, and his father gave him two dollars and fifty 
cents. He said he never felt richer in all his life, and he 
started out into the world. He had never seen a city, nor a 
village of any size before. He turned to take the last fond look 
at home, and in the doorway stood poor old grandma, wiping 
her eyes with her apron. He told me he felt the tears running 
down his cheeks, as he took out the bandanna handkerchief, 
wiped his eyes, and waved it to her for the last time. 

it was eighteen miles to the city, and he had no shoes on. 
At night he stopped with a cousin, a few miles out of the city. 
On the morning he started early for the town, and soon after 
sunrise had reached Mitchell's Hill, a few miles out, where the 
city was in full view. It wao November ; the frost was on 
the ground ; his feet were cold. He sat on a rock, warmed his 
feet in the sun, then started for his future home, the city. As 
he passed up Preble street, stubbing his toes against the stones, 
he saw in a baker's shop window a sheet of gingerbread. He 
could not resist the temptation. He went in and bought it, and 
started up street for his brother's store, where he was to learn 
the trade of a harness maker. He walked in, eating the cake, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 99 

and saluted his brother, "Hullo, Joe?" There were several 
gentleman in the store. His brother stepped up before him, 
saying : " For heaven's sake, Josh, what are you eating ? " " Gin- 
gerbread ; don't you like it ? Take a bite, Joe." " Put it out of 
sight, for if the boys see you, you will never hear the last of it." 
"Don't they like gingerbread, Joe ? " He finished his bread. 

The war with Great Britain broke out; business was dull; 
the opinion of everyone here was there would be nothing 
doing, and the grass would grow in the streets. One even- 
ing, he and two of his shopmates were walking down Middle 
street, just above Free street, and they saw a sign that read, 
" Free trade and sailors' rights. Men wanted to fight for 
it." Boylike, he with his companions walked in and said : " I 
see you advertise for men to fight for free trade and sailors' 
rights. Is it for harness makers' rights also ? " " Yes ; give 
us your names," and, sure enough, they all put their names 
down. His brother, when he learned he had enlisted for the 
war, felt badly, but it was too late. In a few days his brother 
had orders flowing in ; saddles and bridles for the cavalry and 
other things, and with three of his men gone he hardly knew 
what to do ; but he managed to get along. Mr. Dunn served 
his time in the army, and those who never heard him give an 
account of his Shadagee retreat have missed a great treat. He 
said when they heard the English with their Indians coming, 
they all ran ; he, being young and supple, was a half mile in 
advance of all the rest. When he got out of the woods, he said 
if he had only understood the Indian language, he, perhaps, 
would not have run so fast, but their howling and powwowing 
disturbed him, and he ran the harder. After he thought him- 
self well out of danger, and feeling the blood, as he supposed, 
running down his limbs into his shoes, he stopped, pulled off 
the shoes, and, to his great surprise, there was no blood there, 
but water. He had no idea he had perspired so freely, and had 
exerted himself to such an extent. 

Years after, and forty years had passed by, he was in Washing- 
ton, D. C., and there met Gen. Winfield Scott, who commanded 

L OF C. 



IOO ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

the army on the northern border, and was in command at the 
time Mr. Dunn made his famous retreat. He was introduced 
to him as one of his old comrades in arms. He was overjoyed 
to meet one of his old soldiers of the War of 1812, shook him 
heartily by the hand, told him what pleasure it afforded him to 
meet him. Mr. Dunn said to him : " General, I have pondered 
over that great battle for years, and have come to the conclusion 
that he, the general, excelled him in leading an army into a 
battle, but in a retreat he could outgeneral him, for he led the 
army, even the fastest of them, a half a mile, when they got out 
of the woods on that great retreat. General Scott enjoyed the 
story greatly. 

Mr. Dunn was one of the brightest men I ever met. He 
taught me more of human nature than any man I ever knew. I 
will let him tell the story of our first meeting, as he used to tell 
it to my customers : " One day, my barber being out, I hap- 
pened in this lunkhead's shop. I looked him over. I was 
pleased with him. I saw a great, lubberly-looking, healthy boy, 
and thought I could make something of him, for I reckoned he 
knew about half as much as I did at his age. I took him in 
hand, and did my best to help him in every way, and now 
he knows more than his teacher, at least he thinks so. I 
have stayed by him all through his winding path." Yes, and 
I can say I never forsook Uncle Dunn, as I always called 
him. I was one of the pallbearers that accompanied his 
remains to the grave, and I was a sincere mourner, although 
I was not one who mourned without hope, for I shall meet 
him again. 

Now I will give the readers one of the lessons he gave me. 
A few years after I met him, he was appointed postmaster at 
Portland. For forty years there never was a time when if either 
wanted a dollar and the other had it, he could not have it by 
asking. In those days everybody in business gave long credits, 
six months, or longer if need be. There was a firm on Exchange 
street, merchant tailors, by the name of Cook & Ayers, and fine 
men they were. I owed them a bill for a suit of clothes ; I often 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS IOI 

owed them before. My credit was good ; have had it shaken 
some since. They sent a boy with the bill. " Tell Mr. Todd it 
is time that bill was paid," the message was. Jerusalem, wasn't 
I mad ! The idea that I should be told that. I said to the 
boy : " Did Mr. Cook send that word to me ? Tell Mr. Cook 
he will never send that word to me again." The bill was twenty- 
four dollars. I had two dollars with me. I struck a bee-line 
for the postoffice. There was Mr. Dunn in his office. " I want 
twenty-five dollars, Mr. Dunn," said I. " Certainly, fifty dollars 
if you want it* But what is the matter ; is the sheriff after you ? " 
" Worse than that. What do you think, Mr. Dunn, Cook & 
Ayers sent my bill to me with word, ' it is time that bill was 
paid.' " " Well, and is it not time ? " "I am going over to pay 
them, and tell them just what I think." " I have no doubt they 
would be much pleased to have you pay it. I see, John, you 
are still verdant, and duller than a doornail. Notwithstanding 
all these years that I have been teaching you, you don't seem 
to improve much. I am getting discouraged. I fear I have 
not devoted time enough on business lessons. You have 
always appeared to take my lessons to heart and profited by 
them. Now will you do as I want you to, and follow my direc- 
tions in this matter? You can have all the money you want to 
pay that bill, but I don't want you to pay it all to-day for several 
reasons. In the first place, it is not manly to get mad, especially 
with a neighbor. And on such occasions as this, to get mad is 
the worst thing you could do, for don't you see that if your 
creditors learn that, all they have to do in order to collect a 
debt from you is to get you mad, they will keep you mad all 
the time. W 7 hy, I have had my creditors say much worse things 
to me than that when I did not pay, and I always put on my 
blandest smile, and tell them to call in next week, and I 
would surely tell them when to call again. John, will you do 
what I want you to do in regard to this bill ? Don't you know 
that giving way to our tempers is one of the most expensive 
luxuries that any one can indulge in ? They are fine men, and 
perhaps were hard pressed for money to-day, and that boy has 



102 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

been all over the city and collected nothing, and they lost 
patience, and have unloaded on you. Now get down off that 
high ladder of pomposity and pride, and look at it from a 
lower level. They are both customers of yours. What do they 
pay you per year for barbering ? Probably about forty dollars, 
the two of them. Well, their influence will be ten more. They 
have a large acquaintance, especially among the seafaring men. 
No, no, John, don't make them your enemies by a word hastily 
spoken. Now I will tell you what I want you to do. Will you 
do it?" "Yes." "You go over to Cook & Ayets and say, in 
your pleasantest manner: 'Gentlemen, I am sorry I have 
neglected paying my bill so long. It was sheer neglect. I will 
pay you half of the bill now, and next Monday the balance.' " 
I said: "Mr. Dunn, that is rather a hard, bitter pill, but as I 
told you I would do as you advised, I shall do so." I went 
over, and as I entered the door Mr. Cook met me with a smile, 
saying: "John, I suppose you are offended. I told Mr. Ayers 
before the boy got half way to your shop that I ought not to 
have sent him with that word, that it was time the bill was 
paid, but the facts were, the boy had been all over the city, and 
had not collected a dollar. I was mad and unloaded on you." 
Just what Mr. Dunn had said. I paid half of the bill. They 
said I need not pay a cent before next week. I told them of 
my visit to Uncle Dunn, and what he told me to do, and I have 
carried out his instructions to the letter. They had a hearty 
laugh and I went to my shop happy. They continued my 
friends and customers during their lives. 

Now let us draw a moral. My dear mother's precept came 
forcibly home to me, " that I would not have any regrets in 
after years for any good I may have done." Years after these 
events had passed, I stood over the remains of Mr. Cook, 
while in his winding sheet. I shaved the cold, placid face, and 
while standing there performed the last services I could for 
him, I fancied I could hear him say: "John, how much better 
it was and is that we passed through life as kind and loving 
neighbors, than it would have been had we quarreled over so 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 103 

trifling a matter. O blessed forbearance, how pleasant are thy 
ways. And if the young would only listen to the advice of the 
aged and follow it, as I did my old friend Dunn's, the world 
would be the better for it. 



JOSEPH C. NOYES. 

Joseph C. Noyes was the grandson of Joseph Noyes, who 
was a man of great influence in his day, not only in Portland, 
but throughout the whole country. Pie represented the district 
of Maine during the Revolutionary War at the Provincial Con- 
gress. He passed away on October 13, 1795, aged fifty-five, in 
the prime of his life. 

What can I say of Joseph C. Noyes, or how shall I write of 
one who so few remember ; and from my point of view few, if 
any, really knew ? He was so unlike anyone I ever met ; so 
kind, so tender, never wounding the feelings of any one, by 
word or deed ; using no more words than was necessary to 
convey his thought; a grand type of manhood. I feel at liberty 
to use the superlative in this case. For twenty years there 
were not many days that I did not meet him. He was my cus- 
tomer all those years. I felt towards him and looked upon him 
as I did my father. He was ever ready to instruct or advise 
when asked, but never intruding nor forcing his opinion upon 
any. His was an active life, reared in commercial pursuits. 
Born in Portland in 1790, educated in our public schools, he 
moved to Eastport, Me., 18 17, and there established a ship 
chandler's store and became a large ship owner. He always 
said it was wrong to speculate on the food supplies of the peo- 
ple, and in the thirties, when the Erie canal was early closed 
by the severe cold and the coast was cut off from the food 
supplies of the Genesee valley, Mr. Noyes, then a large ship 
owner, had accumulated six hundred barrels of flour in his store 
at Eastport, and flour became very high on the Atlantic sea- 
board ; I think it was thirteen dollars a barrel. He refused to 



104 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

join with the dealers in raising the price a dollar per barrel and 
refused to sell his stock in bulk. Instead, he advertised in the 
Eastport Sentinel that every householder coming for flour in 
his own vehicle could have two barrels of flour at an advance 
of twenty-five cents on the cost price per barrel. This, of 
course, was a great blessing to many people, for some drove a 
hundred miles for the flour. Mr Noyes was elected to the 
Thirty-fifth Congress in 1837, and served with great distinction. 
In 1847 or '48, he removed back to Portland. After the great 
fire of July 4, 1866, he being treasurer of the Portland Savings 
Bank, superintended the construction of the new bank building. 
At that time I had my shop on Market street, opposite the 
Bank. There was a bricklayer hired by Mr. Noyes, having four 
dollars per day. He was what the sailors would call a Mahone 
soldier, that is, one who shirks clear of work on all occasions. 
I had two men at work for me, whose names were J. H. B. Morrill 
and Hartley Lewis. They called my attention to the man's 
work. They had for two days watched and timed him, and 
they wished me to do the same, so I did. One day, at night, 
the man came in to be shaved. He sat in my chair, and in the 
course of the conversation I said : " Getting good pay, I sup- 
pose, now ? I suppose bricklayers are scarce here ? " " Yes, 
they are. I get four dollars a day." "I heard that was the 
pay now given. What do you consider a fair day's work on such 
a wall as you are at work upon, and how many bricks a day 
should a man lay? " " I have known men to lay a thousand, 
that would be a hundred or more an hour, but sixty to eighty 
an hour would be a good day's work," he said. " Don't you 
think," I asked, " when a man gets four dollars a day he should 
do a good day's work ; and when a man hires you your time 
belongs to him, and it is theft for you to ' soger ' and thereby 
deprive an employer of his just dues, as it would be to take his 
money? "Yes, I do," he answered. I said: "Stop and con- 
sider whether you do think so earnestly enough to influence 
your actions. I fear you do not, for we have timed you. For 
the last three days we have kept books, and you have averaged 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS IO5 

fifteen bricks per hour, when you said that seven or eight hun- 
dred would be a good day's work. Now, Sam, Mr. Noyes is 
my friend, and I will not see him robbed by you nor anyone 
else." 

"Are you going to tell Mr. Noyes?" he cried. "For God's 
sake, don't." "Change that word," I answered. " Not for the 
sake of the Highest, for he knows all of our shortcomings, but 
for yours and Mr. Noyes' sake I may. I am no spy or informer, 
but my attention was called to your theft by my men, and I felt 
it a duty to speak to you of that great moral law that holds 
society together, and the awful judgment that awaits the individ- 
ual or nation that does not obey it. Now, I am not going to 
Mr. Noyes just yet. You go to work and do your duty, not 
only to Mr. Noyes but to everyone." He appeared to feel 
badly, said he was sorry, but he did not consider his acts prop- 
erly. He intended to do a good day's work. I told him to 
remember what Henry Ward Beecher said, " That hell was 
paved with good intentions." 

The next morning he was at work, and he did work, laying 
seventy to eighty bricks an hour. He told me afterwards that 
he felt much better, slept sounder and was not as tired as he 
was when he was wronging his employer. Ah ! that is the 
remedy for strikes and lockouts. For if employes and employed 
would be governed more by the teachings of the Great Master, 
then these conflicts would have an end and the world would be 
the better for it. I never told Mr. Noyes, for the man did his 
duty well while on the building, and I thought it would perhaps 
annoy Mr. Noyes and do no good. 

Mr. Noyes appeared to have his whole thought and soul 
wrapt up in the Portland Savings Bank, and I knew from his 
conversation he had with my customers in the shop, and also 
with me, that he was prompted not by sordid gain but by a 
high and moral consideration. He was anxious concerning the 
interest of the plain people that they might have a safe place to 
invest and keep their money. He would often urge me to put 
a little money in the bank weekly for a rainy day, but I was one 



106 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

of the know-it-all kind, and did not take his sage advice which 
I could have done so easily. And now, at nearly eighty-five 
years of age, I realize the correctness of his judgment, and it 
would have been better for myself and friends, perhaps, for the 
shower has struck me and I have no umbrella. 

Mr. Noyes was one of the pillars of the Park Street Unitarian 
Church, and for a long time superintendent of the Sabbath 
School. One of his scholars, now a man well along in years, 
was in my shop a few days ago. I showed him what I had 
written of Mr. Noyes and asked him if I had extolled him too 
highly. "Not a bit," he said. "All of us boys loved him. 
You can't say too much in his praise." Mr. Noyes was a great 
temperance man, but did not think prohibition the best means 
to get rid of it. He was chosen a delegate from Eastport to a 
State Temperance Union convention, the sixth one held in 
Maine, October 12, 1842. I quote here from the autobiography 
of Neal Dow: "It was presided over by the Hon. Joseph C. 
Noyes of Eastport. Mr. Noyes had been a representative to 
Congress and was a business man of large experience and a 
gentleman of strict integrity. He afterwards moved to Portland, 
where he spent the remainder of his days, retaining the esteem 
and confidence of his fellow-citizens. There he held a most 
important position of trust and usefulness, now held by one of 
his sons, a most respected citizen." 



CAPTAIN STURDIVANT. 

The father of Captains Isaac and Addison Sturdivant was 
Capt. Isaac Sturdivant, one of Portland's most successful mer- 
chants and one of the most saving men known. It was said of 
him that he never was known to spend a cent foolishly. The 
two boys, of course, were taught the lesson to look out for the 
cents and the dollars would look out for themselves. He passed 
away leaving property valued at nearly half a million dollars, 
leaving four children, two boys and two girls. 

The boys, not liking the strict discipline they were under, left 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS IO7 

home while in their teens and did not return until they were in 
command of fine ships. I think it was in '47 when Capt. Isaac 
arrived in Portland in command of a fine ship, loaded with rail- 
road iron for the Atlantic & St. Lawrence Railroad, now the 
Grand Trunk. He anchored his ship in the lower harbor. He 
had just married a young lady, handsome as a doll. His father 
went on board and took dinner with him. When leaving the 
ship he said to Isaac : " Why did you marry that child ? Why 
did you not marry a woman ? " He was a man of few words. 

Capt. Isaac laughed when telling me the story and said, 
"That is father; he never gave me an encouraging word in my 
life." For years he and Capt. Addison were my best friends 
and ever ready to help on any good work. On one occasion 
that I remember well, my wife had a hired girl, a most worthy 
woman, who had an aged, invalid mother whom she supported. 
The girl had not worked for us for several years, but had always 
visited my wife who would give her something from our scanty 
store. We had a family to support and all we could do to get 
along, but managed to spare a little for the poor struggling girl. 
The rebellion came on ; the greenback money was plenty. I 
was making money fast, kept a horse, went to ride often; 
thought to-morrow would be as this day and much more abun- 
dant. 1 did not think of the poor, in fact, did not suppose that 
there was one in Portland who was in want, for I was too far 
removed from that condition to think of it. 

One Sunday morning, while seated at the table spread with 
abundance, my wife said, "Have you heard from Eliza; how is 
she getting along this winter? " 

" No, has she been in ? " 

" No. I fear she is sick, or she would have called." 

"Why have you not mentioned it before ? I had not thought 
of it." 

Had she struck me a blow in the face I should not have felt 
it more. It came with the spirit and with the understanding 
also. Oh, how I felt. That is one of the — shall I say, curses 
of wealth. They are so far removed from want they do not 



108 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

think of the poor unless their attention is called to it, for they 
are not hard-hearted but neglectful. Well, I started to find the 
poor girl, who lived in a poor little hut. I found her in. She 
owed four months' rent at two dollars per month. The old 
landlord was pressing hard for the rent, then amounting to eight 
dollars. As I entered the room she burst into tears. 

" Why have not you or Mrs. Todd called to see me ? " she 
asked. " You must have thought me sick or I should have 
been over." 

"We have been too busy riding out and showing my new 
horse and sleigh to think of anyone," I answered. "What do 
you most need ? " 

" Everything ; I hardly know what I need most. I suppose 
I must give the landlord something. He told me if I did not 
by Tuesday he would take the key from me." 

I gave her a ten dollar greenback and told her to tell old 
gripers when he wanted any more rent, if she did not have it, to 
come to me. He never called. I went to the stable and got 
my horse and sleigh. It being Sunday, no stores were open. 
I went home, told my wife how I had found affairs at the girl's 
home. She packed up everything she could in the grocery 
line, and there was a plenty. I took them and my wife over to 
the girl. 

The next morning the two Captains Sturdivant came in to be 
shaved. I told them of my adventure Sunday, not thinking of 
asking help from them. Capt. Isaac, in his blunt and off-hand 
manner, said, "John, put me down for a barrel of flour for 
her." It cost at that time fifteen dollars. Captain Addison, 
looking at me with one of those smiles he always wore, said: 
" Ike is not to have all the pleasure of this affair. Put me 
down for a ton of coal." That cost seventeen dollars. The 
poor girl and mother did not suffer for food that winter. Occa- 
sionally they would ask me how the poor were getting along in 
my neighborhood. 

One day I asked Capt. Addison how he came to leave home 
so young, and added : " I suppose it was the best thing for you, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS IO9 

for you perhaps would never have commanded a ship had you 
not started young. And see now what your father has left you ; 
I am told in the neighborhood of $200,000." He earnestly 

replied : " To h with the money ; I have enough of my own 

now and don't need that. Let me tell you about it. When I 
was seventeen I became smitten with a beautiful girl, sweet 
sixteen, with eyes so bright they shone by night as radiant as 
the stars, and she was all that Fancy painted her. She was 
lovely and divine. Well, John, time may temper love but not 
destroy. I invited her to attend a dancing school with me, 
It was only six dollars, and I was sure that father would let me 
have it, but to my everlasting surprise and regret, his reply was, 
'No, not one cent shall you have for such nonsense; but I 
will buy you a hand cart or a wheelbarrow for you to get a 
living with.' Well, it just broke my heart, and I thought to 
myself, is that all my father thinks of me? and I must tell my 
girl that I can't take her to the dancing school. Well, John, I 
made up my mind to leave this town, and I did, and in all my 
long life as sailor and master of a ship have I ever felt as then, 
and hope I never shall again. It was a love regretted I can 
ne'er resign." 

I said : " Captain, there is no doubt your father said it for 
your good, and perhaps it was." 

" Well, I don't think so. It changed the whole course of my 
life and drove me to sea, where I have suffered much, lost my 
health, am an old man at middle age, and, worse than all, it 
soured my life." 

"Captain," I answered, "how different your life from mine. 
My father never gave me a cross word, and he had no six dollars 
to give me. I left him at thirteen, went to sea to get him six 
dollars and I got it and gave it to him and many more. That 
is a love not regretted, and that I don't wish to resign. Per- 
haps my father made a mistake in not scolding me." 



IIO ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 



LOG CABIN CLUB. 

The Harrison Campaign of 1840 was called the Log Cabin 
Campaign because General Harrison was born in a log cabin. 
This same year there was a club formed in Portland and called 
the Log Cabin Club, to which many of the first young men in 
Portland belonged. This club was a Whig club and for twen- 
ty-six years it was kept up and ruled the political situation in 
Portland and had much to do with keeping this city a Whig 
city for many years. 

Now, the members of this Log Cabin Club would occasion- 
ally have suppers and would get them up somewhat in the 
following manner: Some member of the club would be accused 
by the other members of some crime or theft, would be arrested, 
and they would then hold a mock trial, and if the accused man 
was convicted he would have the supper to pay for. On one 
occasion one of the leading citizens, a merchant tailor whose 
name was Beckett, was accused of stealing a pig, was immedi- 
ately arrested and brought to trial. The judge, in this instance, 
was Joseph Ring, a harness maker. The attorneys were Joshua 
Dunn and Andrew T. Dole, both merchants. Dunn was 
appointed counsel for Beckett, Dole representing the State 
attorney. Previous to the trial, Mr. Dunn inquired of a leading 
lawyer the Latin phrase that would express that his client stood 
correctly before the court and was given the phrase rectus in 
curia. Dr. Charles Thomas, one of the brightest young men 
and one of our best physicians in Portland, was foreman of the 
jury, and it must be remembered was the only man in the room 
who understood a word of Latin, and he said to the judge, 
"Will the court please inform the jury the meaning of the Latin 
phrase, rectus in curia, that the learned counsel has just used ? " 
intending to corner the court. Quick as a flash the judge 
replied, " It matters not whether the jury understands it or not 
as long as the court does." 

There was a Commodore Lord Beckett of England, from 
whom this Beckett family claimed a descent, and Beckett's 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I I I 

counsel said that it was a most ridiculous thing to accuse his 
client of such a crime, claiming him to be a descendant of the 
House of York of England and above any such crime. The 
opposing counsel interrupted him, saying that he was not aware 
of the fact that Beckett was a descendant of the House of York 
or held any relationship to Mme. York although he had noticed 
him coming out of her house on several occasions. (It will be 
remembered that this Mme. York of whom we speak kept a 
disreputable house.) After expatiating for some time, as is the 
custom of most lawyers, he turned and, addressing the court, 
said : " Supposing my client Beckett did steal the pig, whose 
business is it, and I may add that there isn't a son of a gun of 
you on this jury but what would have stolen the pig, mother 
and all." 

After the opposing counsel had belabored the criminal, as is 
usual in such proceedings, the jury retired for a short time and, 
after an absence of five minutes or so, brought him in guilty, 
and thus poor Beckett was obliged to pay for the supper. 
When Beckett returned with a pig he had just purchased the 
judge said, " If there were possibly any doubt in regard to the 
justice of the jury's decision it is now demonstrated beyond a 
doubt that the pig the criminal has brought in is the same one 
stolen, for when Beckett left the court room he told me he had 
not a cent to buy the pig with." 



MASTER JAMES FURBUSH. 

Master James Furbush was a great linguist and teacher. One 
morning he came in to be shaved. I saluted him with "Good 
day, Mr. Furbush, this is a nice morning." " It is a fine morn- 
ing, John." I noticed the strong accent he placed upon the 
word fine, and said, " What is the difference ? " "A good deal 
of difference, for ladies make nice things and God makes fine 
things," and from that day until the present, that was fifty years 
ago, have I ever used that word. I knew his motive was to 
instruct me, not to criticise, and that is how I have acquired 



112 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

much information, for I used to tell my customers to always 
correct me if I spoke a wrong word or used poor grammar, and 
I have profited somewhat by it." 

Mr. Furbush became a firm believer, as well as myself, in the 
return of our spirit friends and that they could, under favorable 
conditions, communicate with the children of the earth. He 
presided at the spiritualist meetings for over twenty years, and 
was a fine presiding officer. 

On one occasion, as no one cared to speak, and he rarely 
spoke, he turned to me and said : " Mr. Todd, please start the 
meeting. You can always speak well on a question, whether 
you know anything about it or not." It made a laugh at my 
expense, and I replied, " How wonderful are God's ways and 
marvelous are the works of His hands ; no two things just alike 
throughout the vast domain of nature, for while I can tell so 
easily what I do not know, Brother Furbush labors hard to 
make himself appear ridiculous while attempting to tell what he 
does know." 

He was not a fluent speaker. After the close of a meeting 
one day, he came across the room, looked me squarely in the 
face and said, "John, you lie." "What do you say, Mr. Fur- 
bush?" "Under a mistake, perhaps; you told me you knew 
nothing of grammar. It cannot be so, for you construed or 
repeated a sentence to-day, when you were rapidly speaking, 
that no one ignorant of grammar would have used. You said, 
'If there are gods, or if there be a God.' Now, I repeat, that 
a person who knew nothing of grammar would have used the 
plural gods and singular God. You would not have been likely 
to have blundered onto that, therefore, I thought you lied, under 
a mistake." 

" No, no, Mr. Furbush, you lie, under a mistake now, for I 
did not tell you I knew nothing of grammar. I told you I never 
studied grammar, but the winter I went to school sixty days, I 
heard the large girls parsing grammar, and that was where 
I acquired my first admiration of Pope's Essay on Man, for that 
was the book they were parsing from. There was a girl in that 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS II3 

class I held in great admiration and I remembered all she said, 
and when she said "I" was a personal pronoun, singular num- 
ber, I knew I was singular enough, and at that time governed 
by love, or beauty, it matters not which, I remembered it. I 
told you, Mr. Furbush, I had not studied grammar, but I had 
acquired quite a little knowledge of English, for I had studied 
the English and American poets for ten years and devoted 
most of my spare time during that period to them." 

One day he said: " John, I wish I only possessed your assur- 
ance, I could speak in public." I said, " You probably would 
have it if you knew as much." He laughed heartily and replied, 
" John, you are always loaded." 

DR. STEBBINS. 

From 1855 to 1861 the political skies were ablaze and every 
man had to choose between freedom and slavery, for the time 
had arrived when there was no neutral ground. The command 
had gone forth anew to choose God or Mammon, and it was 
expected that everyone would speak out. The leading men, 
and especially the clergy, had committed themselves, but the 
great Dr. Stebbins had not spoken. The old stone church 
walls had not rang out the jubilee, the tongue of the old bell in 
the belfry seemed as paralyzed as was the tongue of the pulpit, 
and we black abolitionists feared that the pro-slavery element 
in the church, as it was strong there, had intimidated the great 
Stebbins. 

I could not believe it, for he had talked to me too often while 
cutting his hair, for me to believe it possible. One day it was 
announced in the papers that on Thursday evening the Rev. 
Mr. Stebbins would define his position on the slavery question. 
Well, don't you forget that all of us "long heels," as we were 
called who spoke in favor of emancipation, were there. Some 
were expecting, some hoping, some fearing, some doubting, all 
praying that the great preacher would speak out boldly for free- 
dom and declare the whole truth despite position, salary or 



114 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

friendship. But, to our chagrin and great disappointment, not 
a word had been spoken, nor a hint given on the subject of 
chattel slavery. In the pew with me were Newell A. Foster, M. 
F. Whittier, brother of John G., the great poet, M. A. Blanch- 
ard and Master Furbush. I whispered to Mr. Foster, " Do you 
believe that Mr. Stebbins is afraid to speak out as announced ? " 
"I don't believe he is," he said, "let us wait and see." We 
were all ready to hiss him if he did not declare himself. 

In a few moments he straightened up to his whole height, he 
was a tall man, and he never looked so tall to me as then ; he 
said in a loud, firm voice : " I saw it announced a few days ago 
in the papers that I was to give, to-night, my opinion upon the 
slavery question. I take this opportunity to do so. I will not 
detain you long for it is getting late. It is where the human 
begins slavery ends, and I shall leave it to you to decide if 
our beloved brothers are human." We could not contain our- 
selves any longer; we just shouted. We free soldiers were 
satisfied and found nothing to offend and everything to approve 
in the definition he gave. 

On one occasion he contrasted the golden rule to love your 
neighbor as yourself, with the low ambition and struggle for 
gold he witnessed on every hand. In a few days he met one 
of the wealthiest and most influential members of the church. 
He said, " Mr. Stebbins, I did not like your sermon last Sunday 
a bit, and I don't propose to contribute a great while toward 
the support of such preaching." " Well," was the answer, 
" Mr. Blank, I am pleased with your frankness. It is somewhat 
strange how men differ on those subjects. There was one man 
who heard the sermon who was much pleased with it." " Who 
could it be, pray?" " Horatio Stebbins," was the stern reply. 
And the two parted in silence, but not in tears. 

On another occasion one of his parishioners met him and 
said, "Mr. Stebbins, you know I am a dry goods merchant." 
" Yes, I am aware of it." " Do you know that a man cannot 
succeed in that business without lying. He has to lie forty 
times a day, and more, too." "Then you are going to quit the 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I I 5 

business, of course," said the doctor. The man was speechless 
for a minute, finally he rallied and said, "I don't do much of 
it myself. My clerks do the most of it." I will add this being 
honest by proxy won't be accepted in that great and notable 
day of the Lord. 

DR. EDWARD MASON. 

Dr. Edward Mason, the druggist, was indeed a great man, 
full of his jokes and fun. He claimed to be the first man who 
ever planted the American flag upon the Canadian soil, for at 
the time the Portland Light Infantry went to Montreal on an 
excursion he carried the flag. They had to get permit from 
both the American and English governments to go there with 
arms. Gen. Samuel J. Fessenden commanded the company at 
that time, and Edwin A. Marritt was lieutenant, the only officer 
now living. If any company was ever royally entertained they 
were. Dr. Mason served as ensign and carried the flag, and 
he used to say it was the proudest event of his life when he 
carried Old Glory into Canada. On those occasions when he 
went on an outing there was no one who put out his money 
more freely than he, and he had plenty of it to put out, although 
in business he was called a close man. 

One day a rather hard looking man came in and asked him 
for something to eat. He thought it a good time to play one of 
his frequent jokes on me, as there were several of the boys 
present ; looking at the poor, green-looking chap, he said, " I 
guess you are a stranger in Portland or you would have known 
that Todd, the barber, feeds Middle street now. You go right 
down opposite the post office and anybody will tell you where 
to find him, and tell him Dr. Mason sent you to him to get you 
a dinner." 

Of course I saw through it, as the old woman said when her 
tub-bottom fell out. So I took him across the street to Mr. 
Ingersoll's, who kept a fine restaurant, and told him to give the 
man all he wanted to eat and I would pay the bill. The man 



1. 1 6 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

was hungry, for the bill was seventy cents. I paid it. The 
next day the doctor came in and said, "Did a man come in 
yesterday for something to eat ? " " Yes, there was one." 
" Did you give it to him ? " " What a question for you to ask," 
I answered, " did I feed a poor, suffering man ? What do you 
take me for, a barbarian ? Of course I fed him/' " I shall 
send them all down to you after this," he answered. 

Well, he got shaved and paid me for the shave. A month or 
so passed by before he gave me a piece of money large enough 
for me to take out pay for the dinner. One day he handed me 
a two dollar bill, I gave him back a dollar and twenty cents, 
taking out the pay for the dinner, seventy cents, and the shave. 

" What does this mean ? " he said. " I don't owe you or any 
other barber a cent. I never got trusted for a shave in my life. 
What are you trying to do, John ? " 

"I know you always pay," I said, "but you remember of 
sending a poor man to me to get him a dinner, don't you, 
doctor?" 

" Yes, but what in h has that to do with it ? " 

"A good deal, for you must be aware, Mr. Mason, that your 
verbal order is just as good as a written one. So send them 
along, the lame, the halt and the blind ; they shall all be fed. 
Don't you know that I am getting quite a reputation for gener- 
osity on other folks' money ? " 

" Well, you can't on my money." 

" It seems I have, for I was told a few days ago by a cus- 
tomer, that very man told him of my great generosity and what 
a fine dinner I gave him, and I did not tell him it was Dr.. 
Mason's money that paid for it." 

"Well, Todd, I will get square with you, and don't you for- 
get it." 

I used to buy most of my perfumery and oils of the doctor, 
and I kept away for several weeks and did not call upon him, 
but he continued shaving with me. One day he said, "I see 
you don't patronize me of late." " No, nor I shall not until 
you take back that threat that you would get square with me on 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I I 7 

that dinner. I am not going to give you a chance to sell me 
lard oil for bear's oil." "Oh, never mind that, John; let the 
past as nothing be." So it was all over, and we were always 
friends and paid each other many a dollar. 

The doctor had a young man that worked for him many 
years, by the name of Fred Stevenson, a colored boy. One hot 
day the doctor came to the store. The ice man had just thrown 
the ice on the sidewalk at the door. A large dog rubbed against 
it several times. The doctor, who stood looking at him, turned 
to Freddy and said, " Freddy, you take that out into the street 
and wash it thoroughly." He did so. The doctor looked at 
him, saying, "Freddy, you take the hatchet and cut that ice in 
four pieces and take it out into the street and rub it hard with 
your hand." He brought it in. " What shall I do now ? Shall 
I put it in the water tank ? " " Put it in the water tank ! What 
do you take me to be, you soot head ? Throw that ice out into 
the street. Do you think Dr. Mason would drink water with ice 

in it that d dog had rubbed against ? Now, you go down 

to the house and tell them Dr. Mason wants some ice." 



EZRA CARTER. 

Ezra Carter was born in Scarboro, April 29, 1804, and died 
May 11, 1887. He was a school teacher before moving to 
Portland about 1835. He was collector at Portland Custom 
House under Pierce's administration in 1852 to 1856. He 
would not support Buchanan in his Lecompton constitution 
business and was superseded by Moses McDonald in 1856. 
For years he was a member of the old book publishing firm 
of Sanborn & Carter. He was a rigid Congregationalist and 
Jacksonian Democrat and thought that membership in the 
Democratic party and High Street Church was sufficient. He 
was rather a stern man of unbending integrity, and thought I 
was the only man on the continent who could hone a razor 
properly. 

He was my firmest friend, although diametrically opposed in 



Il8 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

theology and politics, but in religion we were a unit. In busi- 
ness matters we always agreed, that is, I would borrow and he 
would loan. Sanborn & Carter were reputed at one time to be 
doing the largest business in the publishing and stationery line 
of any firm in the State, and no concern stood higher. 

After my failure in the bath room enterprise, I was broke and 
feeling rather badly. Probably some of my readers can appre- 
ciate that feeling also. I went to Mr. Carter for help, for he 
never had refused me ; but at that time I felt rather down- 
hearted, and I fancied that some of my former friends passed 
me by on the other side, but I have learned since that that 
could not have been unless, perhaps, they possibly might think 
I wanted to borrow a dollar. Anyway, I went to Mr. Carter. 
He sat writing at his desk. As I approached him he said, 
"Good morning, John." I stepped up as bold as could be, 
encouraged by his cordial manner. I said, " Mr. Carter, I am 
about to bestow upon you the highest compliment I can pay to 
anyone, and you know I am not in the habit of complimenting 
folks." "What is it, John?" "I am in a hard place and I 
don't know of a man in the city who I can ask for fifty dollars 
with any probability of getting it, but yourself. Is not that a 
great compliment, that out of a population of twenty-five thou- 
sand people I should select you as the one to help a poor man 
out of his troubles ? " He burst out laughing and replied : 
"John, had you asked me for a loan at twenty per cent interest' 
with a double endorsed note, I should say no, for I don't want 
to draw from the bank to-day, but I suppose I must keep up 
your good opinion of me." He turned around, wrote his check 
for the amount, handed it to me and said, " Don't distress your- 
self, nor hurry about paying it, take your time." And I did, for 
he took most of it up in work. 

Mr. Carter and T. C. Hersey were clerks together in Mr. 
Shaw's grocery store. John B. Brown was also clerk there at 
the same time. 

Mr. Carter's children were two daughters, Ann Elizabeth, 
who never married, and Sarah R. P. Carter, who married Dr. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS . II9 

Hosea M. Quimby, superintendent of the insane hospital at 
Worcester, Mass. Mr. Carter's wife was Judith W. Carter of 
Concord, N. H., a cousin. His father was Ezra Carter, a tan- 
ner in Scarboro, a business associate of Josiah Dow; Friend 
Dow, as he always called him, the father of General Neal Dow. 
His youngest brother, Ilus Carter, was with him in the book 
concern of Sanborn & Carter, and afterwards was in the same 
business as Carter & Dresser on Exchange street. The other 
partners in Sanborn & Carter's were Oliver L. Sanborn and his 
son, Joseph S. Sanborn. Sanborn & Carter had a branch store 
in Boston. Mr. Carter had no son, but he left a nephew, a 
sister's child, who is more like Mr. Carter than Mr. Carter was 
like himself, in voice, gesture, manner and kindness of heart. 
He is no other than our highly respected attorney-at-law, 
Augustus F. Moulton. 



FRED DOUGLASS. 

The first time Frederick Douglass, the escaped slave, was 
seen in New England and the first time he made speeches in 
New England was in 1843 or 1844. I heard him in Bath. 
There were but few Abolitionists in Bath at that time. It was 
a great shipowning place and they did not wish to offend the 
cotton growers of the south, for the Bath ships were carrying 
the cotton raised by the slaves from the southern ports to Liv- 
erpool, England, and it might interfere with those ships getting 
freight if the Abolitionists held meetings to agitate the question 
of chattel slavery. There were but few men in Bath who were 
out and out disturbers of the peace and quiet of the town upon 
that question, an all important one for Bath shipowners. The 
active men in the fight, and it was a fight to the finish, were 
Amasa Soule, Isaac Swasey, Charles and Jesse Russell, Jerry 
Ellsworth. Johnson Rideout, Oliver Moses, Anthony Raymond 
and T. J. Gillman, the Universalist minister, who afterwards 
became editor of the Portland Press. They were the principal 
disturbers of that Christian town. 



120 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

No hall could be had for Douglass. After a hard fight, Mr. 
Gillman, with the help of two or three of the wealthiest mem- 
bers of his church, Rideout and Raymond, secured the vestry 
of his church. They being shipowners, it was a great surprise 
to most of the people that they did not consult their pockets at 
all in deciding a moral question. The vestry was at that time 
under the City Hall. I have heard Douglass many times since 
but all his speeches appeared tame to me compared to that one. 
He made no effort or attempt at oratory, but unfolded a plain, 
unvarnished tale, most naturally told. Here is one anecdote 
he gave to us. He said : 

" I was traveling in a stage coach drawn by four beautiful 
black horses. We were on our way to Montpelier, Vt. I was 
to speak there the next evening. Night overtook us. We 
stopped at a village and took in several passengers. It was so 
dark that I looked as white as the palest one. One of the pas- 
sengers who got in was a judge of the Supreme Court of the 
State, with his daughter, as I learned afterward. We got into 
conversation and, oh, how delighted they all were, and we were 
cheered there in the darkness several times, and the learned 
judge appeared as much interested as the most enthusiastic. 
He urged me to stop with him while in the town. I told him 
I should be most happy to do so. But I had lingering doubts 
whether I should ever enjoy that great pleasure, for I had many 
a time before witnessed the great change that had taken place 
over the countenance of men and their action toward me when 
they had discovered that I was a colored man." 

At that moment Douglass straightened up to his height of 
over six feet and, with a voice of thunder, said : " My hearers, 
are you aware that the great god of day has become a curse 
to the black man. On that occasion it had most assuredly 
become such, for when Old Sol burst forth through the 
darkness, lighting up the landscape, gilding the mountain tops, 
flushing both hill and dale with his radiance, lighting up the 
darkened coach within and driving out the darkness, the judge, 
in his great astonishment, exclaimed, 'God, he's a nigger!' 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 121 

There was no more cheering, for silence prevailed. The judge 
did not even apologize for inviting me to his mansion." 



CAPTAIN WILLIAM SENNETT. 

Capt. William Sennett was born and lived in Harpswell and 
followed the sea all his life. After retiring late in life he settled 
in the town of Deering at Morrill's Corner, where he lived until 
the grim messenger, whom he had faced on many occasions, 
took him away. He gave me an account of a very narrow 
escape he and all hands had on a voyage to Manila, going out 
in ballast after a load of hemp. One day the ship lay becalmed 
off one of the Malay Islands, about six miles from shore. 
While examining, with his glass, the shore, he saw a large num- 
ber of men actively at work upon boats. He knew the coast 
was noted for its pirates and he said to his mate : " Those 
fellows are getting ready to board the ship and capture her, 
and here we are helpless, for all the arms we have is one old 
single barrel musket. What can we do? " 

The boats carried from twelve to fifteen men each, propelled 
by twelve oars, six on a side. They soon shoved off from the 
shore. There was no time to lose, for they were coming like 
steamboats. The sea was as smooth as a floor, not a ripple 
disturbing its bosom, with the exception of a shark or a dolphin 
coming to the surface, splashing its waters. The thought came 
to the captain : " We are in ballast with stones of every size. 
Put every man at work passing those stones upon deck. Hurry 
up, work for your lives, those devils mean business. Place 
those stones all around the deck, close to the rails, for we have 
no means of defence." The stones weighed from one to fifty 
pounds. It took but a short time, for he had twenty-six men 
on board, besides the cook, steward, three mates and himself, 
and he a giant, weighing two hundred and forty pounds. They 
were soon all ready for the fray. They did not have to wait 
long for the pirates were upon them, six boats with fourteen 
men in each, eighty-four men in all. As they approached the 



122 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

captain hailed them. They took no notice. He fired the gun 
over their heads. They pulled right on, came alongside, and 
each grabbed a pole with a large hook upon the end, threw it 
over the rail of the ship and began to climb up. 

Captain Sennett, who had been anxiously waiting for them, 
gave the command to fire. The captain, who stood on the 
quarter-deck with a belaying pin in his hand, saw one creeping 
over the rail, ordered him to go back. He probably did not 
understand English and kept right on, but when the captain 
struck him on the head with the belaying pin he must have 
understood that, for he went overboard. One reached the deck 
but he did not stay long, for a stout sailor grabbed him and 
threw him into the sea. In the meantime the battle of stones 
was going on and every boat that came alongside was stove in, 
for every one of those heavy stones that fell into a boat went 
through her bottom. One or two boats pulled off when they 
saw the destruction of the others and their dead and dying 
companions. 

Captain Sennett told me that there were no weapons he 
could have had that would have done better service. A light 
breeze of wind springing up soon after, he sailed away, leaving 
the sharks to finish the battle. 



WILLIAM G. DAVIS. 

The late William G. Davis was born in the town of Limington 
and came to Portland in 1845. I knew him well and for over 
50 years he patronized me. We never had an unpleasant word 
and he stood by me as long as he lived. When he was sick I 
went to his house and shaved him. I never met him when he 
was not pleasant. A man of great self control, always ready 
with an answer ; he could say no as pleasantly as he could say 
yes. I know the truth of this, for I have had both answers 
from him myself, but as I knew he was a man of excellent 
business judgment, neither answer offended me, and notwith- 
standing our frequent differences of opinion I loved him, for 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 23 

he was a most genial companion and had assisted me many 
times. He was not generally considered a very generous man, 
but I have known of his helping many people when they most 
needed help. He never advertised his gifts and would not 
help a loafer who was as able to work as he was. He was not 
a man to be governed by his feelings alone but his judgment 
must also approve of the deed. 

His father owned and worked on a farm in the town of 
Limington on the banks of the Ossipee river. One day while 
he was planting corn with his father — I think it was in 1843 or 
1844 — he laid down the shovel and hoe and said: "Father, I 
don't think I am adapted to work on a farm. 1 was not born 
to be a farmer and I guess I won't work any more." "What 
are you going to do, William ? " asked his father. " I am going 
to Portland." His father laughed and said: "You will return 
in two weeks," but he did not. He came to the city and went 
to work for Charles Blake, the baker, for seven dollars a week. 
In a short time he got nine dollars per week, but for two years 
I was earning about twice as much as he. When I leave this 
world I shall not perhaps possess so much of this world's goods 
as he left. He was a great economist. He and Mr. Blake had 
a disagreement and some sharp words. He said to Mr. Blake, 
who was a good natured man : " I think I can get a living 
without your help." " I think you can, William, if you practice 
economy and keep good natured," said Mr. Blake. Mr. Davis 
left and went to work with Josiah Waterhouse, who, but a short 
time before, had left Mr. Blake and started a bakery on Union 
street. I think this was in 1848, and Mr. Davis and James 
Slater opened a bakery on Willow street, now Pearl street. 
They did not succeed and gave it up, losing money by the 
undertaking. Mr. Slater went to work for the Eastern Express 
Company and ran to Boston. He afterwards took charge of 
the office in Bangor and continued in the company's employ 
for about fifty years. In 1850, when Mr. Davis gave up the 
bakery on Pearl street, he possessed little. He bought a team 
and stocked up with all sorts of goods, such as silks, cloths of 






124 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

other kinds, trimmings, brushes, combs, tooth brushes and 
nearly everything in the line of Yankee notions. For about 
twenty years he traveled through rain and snow from Kittery 
Point to Bangor, a distance of nearly two hundred miles, that 
being his route, and he has told me that he has shoveled snow 
wherever it had drifted between those two points when it 
impeded his progress. He made it a practice to be prompt. 
Every day and hour that he was due in a city or town he was 
there at the appointed time and his customers at the appointed 
time looked for him. Some of them have told me if they got 
out of goods they would wait for him, knowing he would be 
there on the day he was expected, and when they bought his 
goods they got just what they paid for, for he never deceived 
them, his word being as good as his bond. By hard labor he 
accumulated a handsome fortune. Think of it young men and 
hustle. That was no boy's play. He sold his team and went 
into business with James P. Baxter selling about the same kind of 
goods on Free street. He did a large business, for wherever he 
went prosperity seemed to follow him. After that he went into 
the packing of canned goods. I said to him : " It was a lucky 
day for you when you went in with Rumery packing corn." 
" Yes, but I was no deadhead there, John, for by my efforts 
the business was largely increased. I was the first man in this 
country that ever suggested and put in practice the export- 
ing of canned goods to Europe and it became an enormous 
trade." He surprised me one day: I told him I knew a man 
who wanted to hire some money and would pay large interest 
for it, and he said : " I never but once took over six per cent 
for money. I once charged eight per cent and always regretted 
it." I said : " I am astonished, for I supposed you were shaving 
notes with the rest of the saints." "No, thank heaven, I have 
not that sin laid to my charge." One morning he came in to 
see me and appeared much cast down. I said: "What is the 
matter, Mr. Davis ? You seem to be in great trouble." "I am, 
greater than ever before; my wife is very ill and I fear she will 
not recover." "She may rally and live many years," I said. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 25 

" Don't be despondent but have faith, Mr. Davis, for faith has 
great power to save even the sick." He shook his head and 
said : " We have lived many happy years together ; I cannot 
bear the thought of separation and going home at evening and 
having no eye to mark my coming and look brighter when 
1 come." I said: "I have passed through all of that for 
ten years. It is hard to bear, but I have been sustained by the 
faith and knowledge that we shall meet again those whom we 
have loved and lost." 

He made no reply. I added, calling him by his given name : 
" William, she may outlive us both. Don't mourn before she 
goes home." His wife outlived him several days. 



JEDEDIAH JEWETT. 

The late Jedediah Jewett was a partner of the late John B. 
Brown and was one of the smartest men Portland ever had. 
As a citizen, merchant, mayor, financier and collector of the 
port, none surpassed him. He was my friend and customer 
for over forty years. He was ever ready to assist me, and I 
am as much indebted to Mr. Jewett as to any man in Portland 
for what little I do know. In 1847 he came in and while 
shaving him I said that I had found out that a razor needed 
resting, for I had put away a dull- razor that I could not shave 
with and then, after six months or a year, taken it up and it 
would be sharp and shave first rate, and I knew it was so. 

He laughed me to scorn and said that was another one 
of my vagaries. Two years afterwards he came in with the 
Scientific American in his hand, and said : "John I don't know 
but you are right about a razor needing rest, for a writer in 
this scientific paper says it is so." 

I said : " I suppose you accept it now upon the facts as 
stated by the paper. Tennyson, the poet, said that the things 
seen are mightier than the things heard, or, in other words, 
what we read or see have greater weight upon us than what is 



126 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

told us or what we hear. But I knew it from experience." 
It is generally accepted now as a fact. 

There was a man by the name of Mugford who was a very 
peculiar character. He used to haul his wood to market with 
cows yoked as oxen and was the only man at that time who 
wore a full beard. He never shaved and the boys used to 
follow him around hooting at him and calling him bad names. 
One morning Mr. Jewett came in smiling and said : " John, I 
have been floored this morning." "How is that, Mr. Jewett?" 
I asked. He replied saying : " Mr. Mugford was driving by 
my house with a load of wood with his cows yoked up as oxen. 
I have always felt offended whenever I have seen him do it. 
Mugford said : ' Dont you want a load of wood, Mr. Jewett ? ' 
'No, and if I did, I would not buy it of you.' I answered. 
'Why not, Mr. Jewett? ' ' Because you haul it with those cows, 
for I think a man who does that should be tarred and feathered.' 
' Don't you think that is prejudice, Mr. Jewett?' 'No, I don't.' 
'You seem to have great sympathy for those cows, Mr. Jewett,' 
he went on. ' Let us look for a moment and see how things 
are. Don't those cows look fat and sleek? They have never had 
the weight of a goad laid upon them. I give them the best of 
care. They are treated as well as my children.' 'To make a 
long story short, Mr. Mugford,' I answered, 'I think a man who 
works his cows as you do is crazy, for it never was designed 
by nature to have them work, for they have to bear their young 
and care for them, and it is too bad and very cruel.' ' Now, Mr. 
Jewett,' he answered, 'you are a bright and reasonable man. 
I think that when you hear what I have to say and consider 
the reason I give for using these cows, you will think, as I do, 
that it is prejudice on your part and not intelligent reasoning. 
It is said by the best physicians that it is far better for both 
mother and child during those times to have exercise. But my 
main reason is this : I want to arouse public attention to the 
manner you husbands are treating your wives here in Portland. 
And I thought that this was a good way to do it, and I see that 
I am succeeding very well by the indignation you manifest. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 27 

Now, I shall ask you a question, Mr. Jewett, and you are 
most assuredly capable to answer it : Are the men of Portland 
as sensitive about the wives and mothers working and toiling 
both day and night as they are about my cows that work 
moderately a few hours in the day? I wish that I really knew 
and could feel that they are treated as kindly as I treat my 
cattle.' " 

Mr. Jewett said, " I could not say and be true to myself that 
I thought they were. And my reply was, ' Mugford, drive 
those cows with that load of wood up into my yard for I will 
buy it whether I want it or not.' " 

Now a word from Mr. Jewett who set me to thinking and 
caused me ten years of hard study, and more than that. He 
came into my shop one morning very much excited, walking 
the floor back and forth. I said : " What is the matter? You 
seem to be worried about something." 

" Matter enough," he answered. " I should say. Have you 
read the papers this morning? If you have you would have 
seen that the Senate has defeated the House bill, making the 
greenbacks a full legal tender and thereby making them as 
good as gold. But now those two exceptions, interest on the 
public debt and import duties, they cannot pay, so you see, 
John, that makes two debts that nothing but gold can pay and 
thereby making a corner on gold, and gold will go up fifty cents 
on the dollar." And it went up 2.55 per cent on the dollar. 
Well, if he had spoken Greek it would have been all the same 
to me, for I knew nothing about legal tender or public debts 
at that time. So I said : " It may not be so bad as you think 
it will be." 

" Bad as I think, you go down Exchange street and look in 
Mr. Wood's, the broker's window, and you will see there a 
stock of gold with a card up, written upon it, 'gold for sale.' 
You would not have seen it there yesterday, for the merchants 
could go to their money drawers and count the money they had 
taken for their goods and step into the Custom house and pay 
their import duties with it, but to-day they must go to Mr. 



128 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

Wood and buy their gold before they can pay their bill 
to the government. In other words, the government refuses 
to take its own notes. Of course, John, you see it will ruin 
those notes, for what man or banker would take a note 
that reads : " This note is good everywhere except at my 
office ; " and that is just what the government has done." 

That set me a thinking and I thought I would post myself 
up a little so when my customers introduced a subject for 
conversation I would understand what they were talking about. 
That was in 1863 and from that time until now I have devoted 
much time to the study of finance, even to the study of frenzied 
finance by Thomas Lawson. 

One morning Mr. Jewett came in smiling and said, " I am now 
satisfied. I have studied and worried much in regard to build- 
ing the front steps that lead to City Hall, so no fire or panic 
can ever destroy them, so as to prevent an exit from the hall, 
and I now have them completed. And I know they never can 
be broken down by any crowd that can be rushed upon them at 
a fire or panic. They are placed upon a brick arch, the safest 
from fire of any material, and the arch the strongest in mechan- 
ical construction." 

Whenever I have been going down those steps in a crowd I 
have always thought to myself : " Well, Mr. Jewett, I am not 
afraid of going down into the cellar on account of these steps 
giving away. The City Hall was commenced under the admin- 
istration of W. W. Willis and completed under Mr. Jewett, and 
the stonework was done by the late J. R. Thompson. 



STEPHEN CAMMETT. 

It was in 1838 I think, that the brig Alna, Capt. Thomas, 
left Portland for Cuba, with a load of lumber. She was 
manned with an American crew, several of them Portland boys, 
and among them was Steve Cammett, as we used to call him, 
for he was one of " the boys " of those days. He was a steady 
boy, but, if the occasion demanded it, he could fight, run or 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 29 

wrestle. There went with him also another young man belong- 
ing in Portland by the name of Eleazer Weare. The brig sailed 
on a beautiful day and everything looked prosperous. Captain 
Thomas left his home and loved ones not dreaming that it 
would be his last voyage. They had fair weather and favorable 
wind until they arrived off the coast of Florida when the vessel 
went ashore on one of the Florida reefs. At that time in 
Florida the Seminole Indian war was raging and Col. Zachary 
Taylor, who ten years after became President of the United 
States, was in command. The Indians seeing the brig ashore 
commenced firing upon her. The crew had no means of 
defense, and Captain Thomas and most of her crew were killed, 
but young Cammett, then nineteen years of age, and one of 
Portland's best athletes, and Eleazer Weare, another one of 
Portland's smartest boys and about the same age, made their 
escape. The Indians were on their trail but the boys were fast 
runners. The savages pressed them hard, however, and they 
had run a long distance and had outrun the tribe, but there 
was one young supple Indian, who had outrun all the rest of 
his people. The boys in running through a swamp got sepa- 
rated and this young, tall, powerful Indian was in hot pursuit 
after young Cammett. The captain after years told me his 
thoughts and feelings on that occasion. He was getting tired 
and his pursuer was gaining upon him, so he began to reason 
upon the situation and said to himself: "If I keep on running 
until that devil overtakes me I shall be out of breath and in 
poor condition to put up one of my best fights, but single 
handed and alone, I don't fear any one of them, and we are 
two miles ahead of the crowd. I reckon before they get up 
with us that the Indian, or I, won't care who comes." So he 
made up his mind to stop and get his breath, and a few min- 
utes' rest in order to be in better condition to meet the fellow 
than he would be if he kept on running until overtaken. So he 
stopped and faced about, drew his large sheath knife, a very 
formidable weapon in the hand of a sailor, and said to himself, 
"You d — d savage, if you are not a pretty smart Indian you 



I30 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

will get hurt if you come too near to me, for I am not feeling 
any too friendly toward you just at this time." The Indian 
stopped within a few feet of him, looked him over, turned back 
to meet his tribe. Cammett passed through swamps and 
jungles infested by poisonous reptiles, rattlesnakes and mocca- 
sin snakes being plentiful. He swam rivers and on looking 
back from the bank of one that he crossed, saw two large 
alligators swimming up the river seeking their prey. After 
traveling three or four days, living upon whatever he could 
pick up, such as berries, bananas and other fruit, he arrived at 
Key West, supposing that his friend and shipmate Weare had 
been murdered. To his great joy the next day Weare arrived 
at Key West, having passed through about the same experi- 
ences that his comrade had, except that he met no Indians on 
the way. 

They both spent their long lives in their native city of Port- 
land, where both reared families. I was not acquainted with 
members of the families except our popular physician, Dr. Will- 
iam Cammett, who is the son of Capt. Stephen Cammett, the 
hero of my story. 



JAMES C. CHURCHILL. 

One evening ex-Mayor James C. Churchill was in my shop 
getting shaved. When he got through he looked for his hat ; 
there was but one hat in the shop, and that had a weed that 
nearly covered it, such as folks never wore except in mourning 
for their wives. He said, " Someone has taken my hat, Mr. 
Todd." "Well," I said, "there have been only two gentlemen 
in here. They were both here when you came in, S. R. Leavitt 
and Henry C. Lovell. They have not lost their wives, either 
one of them." 

I had a new silk hat that just fitted Captain Churchill and I 
told him to take that and wear it, and that on my way to supper 
I would call and exchange. I did so, but they both had their 
own hats. They had made no change. I kept the one with 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I 3 I 

the weed on it, hoping that the man would be in for it in the 
evening, but no one came, so I wore it home Saturday night, 
and there I was placed in a dilemma (as I have often been in 
my life). I had either got to stay at home with my wife all day 
Sunday or else wear a hat with a weed on it. Rather than 
annoy my wife all day Sunday I chose being dressed in deep 
mourning. And, as I walked out Sunday morning, the first 
man I met was my old grocery dealer, a pious old deacon, who, 
with all solemnity, said, " Mr. Todd, I did not know that you 
had lost your wife." I said, "Nor anybody else." "Well, 
pray, who are you in mourning for?" I answered, "I don't 
know, but I think it must be for somebody else's wife." Many 
met me that day, some on tip toes with sorrowful faces, and I 
think if they had looked in my face they must have thought 
I was a poor mourner. 

Monday morning I went to Captain Churchill's office. I 
said, " Captain, where were you before you came into my shop 
Saturday night ? " "I was attending a directors' meeting of 
the Portland Company in F. O. J. Smith's office." "Well, that 
is where you changed your hat before you came to my shop, 
but didn't notice it before. This is F. O. J. Smith's hat for he 
has just lost his wife." I went up to Mr. Smith's office (a 
place where I seldom had been), and said, " Good morning, 
Mr. Smith." He said, " Good morning, John, this is a rare 
visit indeed for you." I said, " Did not some one exchange 
hats with you Saturday night ? " He replied, "Yes, and it was 
a great annoyance to me, for I had to go to church and wear a 
hat without a weed on it." I did not tell him that I wore his 
hat Sunday for fear that he might not be pleased with the idea. 
He asked me how I came by his hat. I told him Captain 
Churchill had worn his hat away from his office Saturday night. 
I took Captain Churchill's hat from Smith's and got my own. 

James C. Churchill, who was a great Universalist in belief, 
and James Huse, who was one of the most rigid predestinarians, 
both of them well known citizens, but diametrically opposed in 
religious views, although neighbors and great friends and in 



I32 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

business relations most intimate, drew up a note signed by 
James C. Churchill and endorsed by James Huse. At that 
time there was great speculation in Bangor and many Portland 
men suffered great losses, — they were all wild on the scheme of 
buying land in Bangor. The note was presented to the Canal 
Bank to be discounted. Old Captain Newhall, who was a great 
character in his way, was one of the directors of the bank. The 
note, which was for a large amount, had been before the other 
directors and they hesitated taking it without another endorser. 
Just then Captain Newhall walked in and they said, "Mr. 
Newhall, we have a note here that we are a little shaky on and 
we want your opinion on it." "Whose note is it?" "James 
C. Churchill's, endorsed by James Huse." He straightened up 
and looked at them and said: "That note ought to be good; 
they both own real estate, and I should recommend taking it 
as it is signed by universal salvation and endorsed by universal 
damnation." 



JEFFERSON DAVIS. 

My introduction to Jefferson Davis, president of the Southern 
Confederacy, was a strange one. One day a couple of gentle- 
men came into my shop to get their hair cut. One of them took 
my journeyman's chair, Mr. Morrill's, and the other one mine. 
When they came into the shop they were discussing the possi- 
bility of the success of laying the Atlantic cable which was then 
being done. When they got through the gentleman whose hair 
I had been cutting, said to me, " What do you think, Mr. Bar- 
ber? Do you think it a success ? " 

I replied : "As a sailor who has been to sea five years, I 
should say it would not be." For I thought, owing to the 
roughness of the ocean's bottom, its stones, etc., to say nothing 
of the big fish that might trouble it, that the cable would be 
destroyed and it could not rest there. I thought he asked the 
question just to set me talking. So I thought I would accom- 
modate him, and said, " But as a prophet and interpreter of 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I 33 

prophecy, I should think it would be a success." " What do 
you mean by that, sir ? " he asked. " There is no doubt in my 
mind," I said, " but the angel John saw on Patmos who declared 
that time should be no longer, was the angel of telegraphy. It 
is not relevant to speak of time as being no longer, for, strictly 
speaking, there is no such thing as time. What we call time is 
only the division of eternity into years, months, weeks, days 
and seconds for man's accommodation, and, therefore, to have 
what we call time annihilated was essential that the cable must 
be laid. So man can overcome it, the oceans must be spanned 
by wires. So thought, that great civilizer, must be transmitted 
from continent to continent, around the globe, to bring man- 
kind nearer in the bonds of fraternity. I have no doubt that 
Franklin after leaving this earth, he being as much interested 
in his electric research and experiments that he practiced on 
Boston Common, as he was when here, and he found minds far 
in advance of his and with a knowledge of telegraphy, he sought 
his first opportunity to impress Morse and others that the world 
might possess this great blessing." 

He said : " That is the first and only sensible interpretation 
I ever heard of the Book of Revelation." 

Then he said : " Do you know the gentleman in the other 
chair, Barber?" "I do not." "Well, allow me to introduce 
you to Professor Bache, a grandson of Dr. Franklin." I said, 
" That may account for my saying what I did. His grandfather 
probably came in with him and used me as the medium to 
inform his grandson of the fact of his presence and of his inter- 
est in the work of laying the cable." 

The gentleman said to me : ' k Are you one of those spirit 
rappers? I am astonished that a man of your apparent intelli- 
gence should believe in such a humbug." 

I said, " Have you ever examined its phenomena ? " 
" No, I never had time to waste on such nonsense." 
" You are most fortunately endowed to know a thing is naught 
that you have not looked up or examined," I answered. "Are 
you aware, sir, that it requires about as much knowledge to 
know a thing is naught as to know that it is ? " 



134 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

" I will take it all back, sir, I was too fast," he said. "Do 
pray tell me what evidence you have of this wonderful phenom- 
ena you are speaking of." 

I was about to narrate some physical manifestations that 
I had witnessed, when this voice that had so often spoken 
to me and taught me much, said : "Away with your physical 
manifestations that rest upon your veracity, and you a stranger. 
You are talking to a man of brains. Address his philoso- 
phy; tell him that the appropriateness of the time, and the 
necessity of this truth, are the strongest arguments. For the 
time has arrived, and the human mind so developed, and the 
protection of the laws such that they can come through their 
mediums and not have the mediums hung as witches, for the 
severance of the church and state protects them. And it would 
be most appropriate if we could converse throughout the world ; 
yes, and the spirit world also, and bring the races of men 
together." So I replied to him. 

" Now, what of the necessity ? " he asked. I replied, "As 
our leading statesmen are trying to break up the government 
of our fathers and nationalize slavery, there is great necessity 
for Washington, Jefferson, Franklin, Adams, and other patriots 
to speak to their degenerate children, and stop them in their 
mad career." 

Professor Bache, turning to me, said, " Barber, allow me to 
introduce to you the Hon. Jefferson Davis of Mississippi." I 
had some doubts of it being him, for he wore goggles and looked 
more inferior than I was expecting to see Mr. Davis look. I 
looked him in the face and said, " If this is Mr. Davis, all I can 
say is, as Nathan said to David, ' Thou art the man.' " 

They had a hearty laugh and soon left the shop, Mr. Davis 
saying he was going down to Lowell & Senter, the jewelers, to 
get his watch fixed. In a few minutes Professor Bache returned. 
He said, " I have come back to congratulate you on the great 
hit that you gave Davis." "Hit, did you say, professor ? Why, 
after you left the shop I went into a self-examination to see if 
I had not insulted the gentleman, for if he is not trying to 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 35 

break up the government of his fathers, it was an insult. If he 
is trying to do that, should you lend your great name with the 
blood of Franklin coursing through your veins, to be taking him 
around through New England ? " He wilted under my words 
as though. his grandfather had spoken them. 

Mr. Davis was in three times afterward to see me. He had 
his hair cut once. I told him of my spending two winters south 
and of the slave sales I had witnessed, — one in particular, in 
St. Marks, Fla., where five children were sold from the mother, 
never to see her again. She was sold to go to New Orleans as 
a house servant. When her youngest of five years was put 
upon the block, she begged of the man who had just bought 
her to buy him also so she might have him with her, and the 
gentlemen friends said, " Buy him, Sam, he will go for fifty 
dollars." " My wife would not want the little nigger under her 
feet." While they were talking he was sold to go to Texas for 
fifty dollars. I was about eighteen and had just left my mother 
and home, and I felt the separation keenly. She fell upon her 
face, clasped her child, and fell upon the ground with it in 
her arms, and was weeping in great agony when the slave driver 
came in and put his foot against her and told her to get up. I 
was so wrought up in my feelings that I said, " Don't you kick 
that woman again." A gentleman who stood behind me tapped 
me on the shoulder and said : "You are from the North, I see." 
He said he was from Vermont, and was captain of the steam- 
boat that was at the wharf. " You must not say anything ; one 
word more such as you have spoken and you will find yourself 
in the calaboose." 

I said to Mr. Davis : " I took an oath before high Heaven at 
that time, that I would fight the institution that permitted such 
a scene as that till hell froze over, and then I would fight it on 
the ice. He burst out laughing, saying: "You are incorrigible. 
You are the first northerner that I ever met that had spent two 
winters in the South and did not come back in favor of the 
institution." 



I36 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 



THOMAS BROWN. 

Sixty years ago on Middle street, near India, there lived a 
couple of old gentlemen, eighty and eighty-four years of age, 
who had formerly been active merchants of Portland and whose 
names were William and Thomas Brown. Thomas was a 
customer of mine and was in my shop frequently. He was a 
most devout Christian ; I do not think I ever met a man who 
was more so. He had been a life-long Democrat and at the 
election of Mr. Lincoln in i860 felt very badly and thought the 
country ruined, and he was near to the condition of what was 
then called a " copper-head," a man who did not believe in the 
war or in troubling chattel slavery at all. One cold morning in 
the winter (I think in February), he came into the shop, hold- 
ing up his hands in the attitude of prayer, and said, " Mr. 
Todd, can you believe it," and he repeated it, " Can you be- 
lieve that last night I arose from my bed at two o'clock and 
prayed for Abraham Lincoln ? (clapping his hands.) Yes ; as 
great a partisan as I am, — I prayed for President Lincoln on 
my knees for half an hour in the cold," he said. I said, " Why, 
Mr. Brown, how came you to do that ? " He said, " Because I 
felt it to be a command from God, for did not Abraham Lin- 
coln ask the prayers of all Christians to assist him in the great 
conflict that he saw coming ? When I read it I said, ' How 
can I let my partisan feeling interfere with my Christian duty?' 
And I prayed for him as I never did before for anyone." 

In 1845 I attended a Baptist church. The minister in the 
course of his remarks said that " Pleasures are like poppies 
spread : You touch the flower, their bloom is shed. Or, like a 
snownake on the river, a moment white, then gone forever." I 
was delighted at the quotation because I was such an admirer 
of Bobbie Burns's poems, and especially the one he quoted 
from. At that time ministers would not quote from Burns, he 
was thought so immoral, etc. I' waited after church to con- 
gratulate him on his courage and of his being an admirer of 
Burns. When I accosted him and told him, "Why," he said, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I 37 

" I did not quote from Burns. I should not think of such a 
thing." " Well, you certainly did. Did you not repeat that 
' Pleasures are like poppies spread ? ' " " Why," he said, "that 
is not Burns, is it ? I read it in the paper, and I thought it 
was beautiful." I said, " You will find it in Burns's ' Tam-o- 
Shanter.' " " Had I known that, I should not have quoted it." 
" It was ever thus from childhood's hour I had seen my fondest 
hopes decay," for I was sadly disappointed. I had hoped a 
new era was dawning upon the church when they might per- 
haps sing a few of Bobbie's beautiful songs in church. 

One of the first lessons I received, or hints that all church 
members were not wholly redeemed from the curse of the law, 
was in the spring of 1840, when I was nineteen years old. I 
was living on the banks of the Kennebec river, and there was a 
very devout man, so considered, whose land or farm reached to 
the Kennebec, and there was a point of land off into the stream 
where they built seines to catch salmon. He was quite aged 
and would not go into the water, for it was early in April and 
the broken ice was floating down the river. He said to me, 
" John, if you will build that seine, I will furnish material and 
we will go halves in the salmon catch, but remember, there will 
be no fishing on the Lord's day." I assented to it and for days 
I stood up to my waist in water, the ice striking against me 
while I drove down stakes and built the seine. The next Sun- 
day after it was completed we were all at church, the church 
standing in sight of the seine on the banks of the river. A 
neighbor and expert fisherman came to the church at the recess 
and told me there was a large salmon in our seine and it was 
dangerous to leave him in there for he might get out, but he 
would go with me and dip him out and secure him. As 
there had not been a salmon caught in the river that spring, it 
would bring a very high price. The deacon being present in 
church, I asked him if we had not better catch the fish. He 
said, " I will have nothing to do with fishing on the Lord's 
day." That was before I had become a saint. I said, " Moss, 
let's go and take him out." We went and caught him. The 



I38 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

next day his brother was going to Portland on business. He 
kindly took the fish and sold it in Portland for $14.63. He 
brought me the money and I said to my mother, whom I 
always consulted on moral questions, "I think I had better say 
nothing to the deacon about it." She said, "Oh, no, John, 
don't do that. Go and offer him half of the money ; he, of 
course, will not take it, but it will clear your skirts from the 
appearance of wrong." On Wednesday I took a walk over to 
his house, said, " Deacon, Mr. Moss and I took that fish out of 
the seine Sunday and sent it to Portland and I have $14.63. 
Now, if you feel that half of it belongs to you, I will divide with 
you." He said, "John, I don't know anything about your Sun- 
day fishing, and I don't wish to have anything to do with it, 
but if you say you have $7.32 belonging to me, you may give 
it to me." Only see how sagacious the old deacon was in 
clearing his own skirts from the sin, for he had never read or 
heard anything about Rockefeller's "tainted" money. 



EBEN STEELE. 

About 1790 Charles Blanchard established a crockery and 
glassware business on Middle street, where the Falmouth Hotel 
now stands. Eben Steele was at that time on Congress street 
just above the Preble House carrying on the grocery business. 
In the early part of the 19th century Mr. Steele bought out Mr. 
Blanchard and continued in the crockery and glassware business. 
Afterward he took in as a partner Thomas Hayes. In April, 
1866, before the great fire of July 4th in that year, Mr. Steele 
retired, and Thomas R. Hayes and Robert Douglass purchased 
the business, the firm being Hayes & Douglass. Within a few 
years one of our city's business men, (A. L. Burbank) was in 
the New York office of the Havilands. They were large dealers 
in French chinaware. The oldest member of the firm had 
recently died. His son carrying on the business, and in looking 
over some of his father's papers in a private desk, came across 
a small card with this written upon it : " Eben Steele of Portland, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 39 

Me., crockeryware dealer. A proper man, credit good for a 
thousand dollars." The card was dated 1843. The card is in 
Portland to-day. After that time Mr. Steele's credit was good 
for fifty times that amount. 

In 1845. I became a customer of Mr. Steele and he was my 
customer as long as he remained with us in the business, and 
I still patronize the store. I had bought all the crockeryware I 
needed in my shop of him. After my marriage I went to Mr. 
Steele and said to him : " I want some dishes, for I am going 
to housekeeping." He replied : " I saw your marriage in the 
papers and was glad to see it, not because I was anxious to sell 
you goods, but because I firmly believe it the best thing a 
young man can do, when settled in business, is to take a wife. 
John, you can have all the goods in my line you need on your 
own time, with this understanding that when you set down at 
your meals with those dishes in front of you, you will acknowl- 
edge to our Heavenly Father the many blessings we receive 
from His hands. I don't wish to enforce upon you any par- 
ticular form of worship and if you don't wish to ask a blessing 
orally why you can do in silence. My object in asking you to 
do this is that I want you to recognize the Divine Giver, and 
also that we have a spiritual nature that demands spiritual food. 
It can only be fed by aspiration, communion and prayer." 

I said : " I find no fault with that, but I think you will find 
me a rather hard subject to convert to your creed of endless 
punishment, for I have too good an opinion of my Heavenly 
Father for that." His reply was: "I don't ask you to accept 
my creed, but I would like to have you acknowledge those 
great fundamental principles of religion." He never let an 
opportunity pass by to impress upon the young the necessity of 
doing right. 

His late partner, Thomas Hayes, told me how he came to be 
with Mr. Steele. He was at work for a railroad company. He 
had been with it for some length of time. When the demand 
came that he must work Sunday he told them he could not, that 
he should resign his position, and he left. He could get no 



I40 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

job, and for several months he waited in patience. It made 
some talk in the city, for in those days the employers of labor 
seemed to have more interest in those out of employment than 
they have now, for the war between capital and labor was not 
so intense and bitter as now. Mr. Steele heard of the young 
man's case and sent for him and having listened to his 
account of it, he employed him at once. Mr. Hayes remained 
in the concern as clerk and partner during his life, and he 
always believed it providential in his getting the place, because 
he stood firmly for principle in refusing to work on the 
Sabbath day. I think so myself, for had he not stood firm he 
probably never would have heard of Mr. Steele. 

After the great fire of 1866 I caught the then raging fever to 
rebuild the city. Mr. -Steele was one of the commissioners 
appointed to handle the money to be loaned to those who 
wished to build houses. He came to me and said : " I hear 
you are about to commence building houses. What do you 
know about building houses." I said : " I don't know any- 
thing about it." " Well, John," he said, "don't you know that 
a man must serve his time at every trade, either in time as an 
apprentice, or as a fool to pay money in a new enterprise they 
know nothing about, for pay they must. Now let me advise 
you, and be sure and profit by the advise. Don't you go to 
building houses for they will take advantage of your ignorance 
and cheat your eyes out." " Well," I said, " I want to help 
build up the city." " Never mind the building up of the city, 
for that will be done without your losing your money that you 
will need when you become old. If you really want to help the 
city I can tell you how to do it. You and wife confer together, 
I hear she is a careful, prudent women, and decide how much 
patriotic funds you can spare on building up the city. You 
should not give all you have, but whatever amount you two 
agree upon to give, take it and carry it up to the city treasurer 
and place it in his hands for the city's use, and then you will 
do the city some good, but if you go to building houses you will 
lose all you have and embarrass yourself and perhaps involve 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 141 

your friends, and possibly bring upon yourself and family great 
suffering. What is your money invested in now?" "In five- 
twenty U. S. bonds." "John, it is the best security in the 
world. Are you so crazy as to think of selling them to build 
houses ? You cannot get over eighty-five cents on a dollar for 
them in open market and before ten years they will be twenty 
per cent above par. That will be thirty-five cents on a dollar 
you will lose on the sale of the bonds, and you will have to pay 
at this time three to four dollars per day for skilled labor, when 
in two or three years from now you can hire these same men 
for two dollars a day. Now, John, look at it soberly and don't 
throw away your money." 

"I have bought my lots, Mr. Steele, and will lose." He said, 
"Sell them the best you can and stop right where you are." I 
said, " Mr. Steele, I see the force of your argument, but I feel 
I must go ahead and build now, for I want to carry out my 
plans." "O, I see, John, you have the fever badly to build up 
the city. It will have its run. I am sorry for you, John, but 
there it is like thousands of others. You must suffer and learn 
wisdom thereby." 

Well, I did lose money, and I think I got some little wisdom. 
I think Mr. Steele was one of the best business men Portland 
ever had, a man of good judgment in every department in life. 

Living in Portland at that time was a schoolmate of Mr. 
Steele, I think they came from the town of Essex, Mass. 
The man told me he received a barrel of flour and a cord of 
wood every winter, and said he knew well enough who sent it, 
but Mr. Steele never mentioned it to him nor he to Mr. Steele 
during their lifetime. 

LEWIS DELA. 

Lewis Dela was a great genius and the strangest man I ever 
met. He was sympathetic and tender as a woman, full of sport, 
wit and jollity, but, judged by his actions, he was not governed 
by high principles. He was true to his intimates but not so to 



142 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

outsiders. He was a lawyer, poet, business man and politician. 
He, after much urging, persuaded me to go to the corner of 
Fore and India streets, where he owned a store, to open a bath 
house and barber shop. I thought I saw in it a fortune. Cap- 
tain Churchill asked me what I was then making, when I asked 
his opinion about my moving. I told him. He was astonished. 
"You are making more than I get as treasurer of the Portland 
Company ; don't think of changing," he. said. " There are men 
in this city with capital to the amount of ten thousand dollars 
invested who are not receiving that amount." But I, like most 
of the young fools, would not profit by the advice of the old and 
experienced captain. It was so plain to me that, in a city of 
twenty-five or thirty thousand inhabitants, a bath-house was the 
one thing needed, and hearing so many pleading for one I 
thought I had a sure thing. But, alas, "it was ever thus from 
childhood's hour, I have seen my fondest hopes decay." I 
lost everything I had and placed myself heavily in debt. There 
was no water in the city except what the wells and cisterns 
afforded. The Boston papers called us the "great unwashed." 
On India street there was an old log aqueduct owned by a 
company that supplied their own houses with water taken from 
the hill, fine pure water. Dela was one of the owners. I was 
to take the water from that source. I had quite a rush for 
baths the first few days. One night there was no water for any- 
one on that line. There went up a great cry for water, and 
'they began seeking for the leak. It was soon found, and I was 
notified that there was no more water for me from that source, 
thus I was, as usual, in trouble. 

Dela was also notified that his right to the water and use of 
the conduit was confined to his dwelling house, not to bath 
rooms. He saw at once the company was right, and I was 
without water for the room. What was to be done? He and 
his partner had agreed to supply me from that source and there 
was a question whether they were obliged to supply me from 
any other. Their store was separated from mine by a board 
partition. I could hear them talking over my situation. The 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 43 

real respectable, moral, man of fine reputation, said, " I shall 
not invest one cent to lay a pipe for Todd's bath room. If you 
are fool enough to do so you can. We agreed to furnish him 
water from that particular fountain, and if that has failed us, 
my conscience is clear. I stop there." I thought to myself, 
that is cool, that is business, but where does poor Todd come 
in ? Then Dela spoke: "That may satisfy you but it does not 
me, for we urged him to leave a first rate business, over a thou- 
sand dollars a year, to come here and fit up bath rooms. He 
has spent fifteen hundred dollars in fitting them and if he can- 
not get water they are worthless." "Well, what of it? That 
is the fate of ninety in a hundred who go into new business," 
said the other; "he took his chances and lost. I can do 
nothing for him." "Well, that may do for you," replied Dela, 
"but for me it won't answer, for I swear to you he shall have 
water." " How and where are you to get it ? " "I can tell you 
where, but the how is not yet fully revealed. My mother owns 
as good a spring of water as there is in Portland, only twelve 
hundred feet from here, and fifty feet above us, and we can sink 
a fountain there and lay the pipes." " Where are we," objected 
the other, "to get the money to lay twelve hundred feet of pipe 
to the spring you speak of, for I will not put in one cent, be 
sure of that." "Mr. B., you can do as you please," said the 
sinner. " I am called dishonest, but, by the eternal, I can't 
leave Todd in that shape, thief or no thief." 

He came in and told me the conversation he had with his 
partner. I told him I had heard it all, and had marked the 
stand he had taken. "Well, Todd, I start for Boston to-morrow 
night on the boat, and I will see what I can do," he replied. 
He went to Boston and in two days returned. He called in to 
see me. "Well, John, I shall commence laying the pipes 
to-morrow." "Then you got the pipes?" I asked. "Yes, two 
sets of them, one of wrought iron, one and a half inch, and the 
other of cast iron, three inches. I shall lay the cast iron." 
"What will you do with the other?" "Sell them to pay for 
digging the trench." So he set the men at work. They laid 



144 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

the pipes, finished the work and came for their pay. Dela had 
not sold the pipes and had no money. He came to me and 
said, "John, I must have ninety dollars before six o'clock 
to-night. You must let me have it." An influential man who 
was present, shook his head at me. I told Dela I would see 
him before six, and see what I could do for him. He went out. 
The man said, "You are not fool enough to let him have the 
money?" "Yes, I am, for he will pay me if no one else," I 
said. "Perhaps he will, but you will get left one of these days 
by him. This looks like a case of robbing Peter to pay Paul." 
At six o'clock Dela came in after the ninety dollars. " Todd, 
what is the prospect ? " he asked. " What's the prospect ? You 
knew I had the money and, of course, you knew if you wanted 
it you would have it by asking. Here is the money. Now tell 
me, Lewis, about the pipes, how you got them, and why you 
got two sets? " 

"I knew a firm in Boston," he said, "who dealt in wrought 
iron pipes, and they would give time to pay for them, so I 
ordered them. Coming home on the cars I met Mayor James 
T. McCobb. He asked me where I had been. I told him all 
about my trip and of my purchasing the pipes. He said, ' What 
a foolish man ! Why did you not come to me, I would have 
let you have cast iron pipes, that will last ten times as long, for 
wrought iron pipes rust quickly as water pipes.' ' I'll tell you, 
Mr. McCobb, I had to get them on credit, and I was a stranger 
to, your company and had no credit here.' ' That would make 
no difference, Dela, for I would have given you credit.' 'It is 
not too late,' said I, 'I can countermand the order, for I had 
much rather have the cast iron pipes.' So Mr. McCobb gave 
me an introduction to his company, and down came the pipes. 
As I thought it over, I concluded to keep both sets, sell the 
wrought iron one, take the money and pay for laying the other." 
For he would not cheat a laborer out of a cent, you know, and 
I don't believe he ever did. He sold the pipes to Charles 
Q. Clapp for cash and paid me, but he never paid for either set 
of pipes. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 45 

Dela owned the store and buildings on the. corner of Fore 
and India streets. They were insured in a Connecticut com- 
pany, and the agent was a most respectable man. They had 
been insured by this agent for a long time, and when the policy 
became due the agent paid it and sent the renewal to Dela. 
On this occasion it had run for several months. The building 
was burned down. Dela called for his insurance. The agent 
said he was very sorry, but he had a few days before cancelled 
the insurance, because he had put off paying the premiums so 
long. Dela took it calmly, said he was surprised that he did 
it, but he supposed it could not now be helped. "No," said 
the agent, "it is too late." He said it was an expensive lesson, 
and hoped he would profit by it. Dela replied be should most 
assuredly. Then there were no telegraphs. Dela had just 
time to catch the train. He did not stop to go home, but ran 
for the cars ; when he arrived at the Connecticut city he went 
into a lawyer's office and said to him, " Step to the door, please, 
with me." He told the lawyer his business, stepped into a 
store beneath, left his hat and coat, placed a pencil over his ear, 
and told the lawyer to wait in the entry a few minutes so they 
might not suspect they were together. Dela stepped in, no 
hat or coat on, and said, " I have a little business with a man 
in Portland, Me. He has referred me to you ; said he had a 
block of buildings on the corner of Fore and India streets in 
that city, and it is insured by you. I would like to know if it 
is so. If you will be so kind as to inform me, it would be a 
help to me." He turned to his lawyer and said, " Yes, the 
property is insured here all right." At that moment the mail 
arrived. Dela started to go. The lawyer had written down 
every word that had passed between them. " Wait a minute," 
said the clerk, " here is a letter from our Portland agent, saying 
the buildings were burned down a few days ago, and the pre- 
mium has not been paid and he had cancelled the policy." 
" Well, I am Mr. Dela, and as I find it is all right on your book 
at 10.30 to-day, we will settle the question later on as to my 
paying the premiums before the fire." They would not pay the 



I46 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

loss. Dela sued the company, won his case and recovered 
the insurance. 

For wit and quick repartee Dela had no superior. I knew 
him well and in all probability shall never look upon his like 
again. He spent a handsome fortune left him by his father, 
not because of dissipation, for he was strictly temperate, but 
because he was restless, full of scheming and speculation. He 
possessed rare poetic gifts and was of a social nature. I give 
below one of the poems which was written in Judge Nathan 
Clifford's office, in a room just below where the Casco National 
Bank now stands. Judge Clifford was known to be the most 
studious and hard working man who ever belonged to the Cum- 
berland bar. He was in the habit of going to his office at five 
o'clock in the morning and working all day. 

Dela said to him, " Judge, have I got to work as hard as you 
do when I am admitted to the bar ? " 

" Yes, if ever you amount to anything, you must work for it." 

"Well, Judge," said Dela, "I have seen all I want to see of 
the law if that is the case." Dela looked out of the window 
and was in a brown study. Seeing an aged man, by the name 
of Safford, sawing wood upon the street below, he watched him 
for awhile and, turning to the judge, said : " I had rather be in 
Safford's place sawing wood for a living than study law." 

"Well, Lewis," said the judge, "men in this country have 
their choice of professions." 

Dela turned around to his desk and wrote the following poem : 

LAW VS. SAW. 

Sitting in his office was a lawyer, 
Standing in the street a sawyer; 
On the lawyer's anxious face 
You could read a knotty case, 

Needing law; 
While the sawyer, gaunt and grim 
On a rough and knotty limb 

Ran his saw. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 47 

Now the saw-horse seemed to me 
Like a double X in fee, 

And the saw 
Whichever way 'twas thrust, 
Must be followed by the dust, 

Like the law. 

And the log upon the track, 
Like the client on the rack, 

Played its part 
As the tempering teeth of steel 
Made a wound that would not heal 

Through the heart. 

And each severed stick that fell, 
In its falling seemed to tell 

All too plain 
Of the many severed ties 
That in lawsuits will arise, 

Bringing pain. 

Then methought the sturdy paw 
That was using axe and saw 

On the wood, 
Had a yielding mine of wealth 
With his honest toil and health, 

Doing good. 

If the chips that strewed the ground, 
By some stricken widow found 

In her need, 
Should by warmth and light impart 
Blessing to her aged heart — 

Happy deed! 

This conclusion then I draw, 
That no exercise of jaw, 
Twisting India-rubber law, 

Is as good 
As the exercise of paw, 

Sawing wood. 



I48 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

In the early fifties, soon after the Portland & Kennebec 
Railroad was completed as far as Brunswick, an employe of the 
road, who was an Irishman, was killed. He was wheeling a 
barrow at the time and was struck by an engine. Not long 
afterwards it was reported by the engineer and fireman of the 
train that for several days an apparition of the man with the 
wheelbarrow appeared on the rails in front of the engine, and 
it mattered not how fast the cars were going, the "spook" 
would keep in front of them. Many people went to see the 
strange sight and when they returned were questioned regard- 
ing it. Some declared that they saw it and others said they 
did not. There was quite a stir over it in this city, especially 
among the Spiritualists. Dela, who always wanted to know 
and liked to investigate every story, came to me and said, 
"Come, Todd, let us go to Brunswick to-morrow and see the 
ghost that is causing such a stir in the city." "All right, Lew," 
said I, " I will be there with you." For at that time I would go 
anywhere to see spirits, not having seen so many as I think I 
have seen since. 

The next morning in came Dela, and smilingly he said, 
"John, you may consider the engagement I made with you yes- 
terday off." " Why so, Lew ? Are you afraid to see a ghost ? " 
" No, I am not; but the facts are, John, when I had retired last 
night I began to meditate on the story of the man appearing 
with the wheelbarrow. While I may think it possible for the 
spirit of a man to appear to us mortals, I'll be hanged if I can 
be made to believe that the spirit of a wheelbarrow will ever 
make its appearance here." 

In 1856, Mr. Dela stepped into my shop and said: "Come, 
Todd, walk down to the Boston boat with me, for I go to Boston 
to-night." It was almost time for the boat to start, and so I 
went down with him. Just before the boat started he reached 
out his hand and taking mine, said, with much feeling: "Good- 
bye, John, but I hope not forever. I leave you now to go to 
Philadelphia and you will never see me in Portland again." 

I thought it was a joke, but he insisted it was true. I asked, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 49 

"Why did you not tell me before this late hour, so we could 
have talked it over ? " 

"You know why I did not. I was fearful you might mention 
it to someone and I might be stopped. You know I am in debt 
and might be prevented from leaving." 

"You know, Lew, that I would not have done so, for you 
have told me secrets of greater consequence to you than this 
one." 

" That is so, but this one I could bear up under without the 
aid or sympathy or help from friends." 

"All right, Lew, cut it off there." 

" But, Todd, you must and will be with me soon. I will get 
you a shop in a hotel in Philadelphia, and when I do you will 
come." 

"But what about your wife and two babies, Lew? " 

" I leave them in your care. I have left them in the same 
block with you, and if they should get short of funds before I 
remit to them you speak to mother and it will be all right." 

We stepped to the plank and I held his^ hand until the boat 
swung from her moorings. Then I bade him farewell, never to 
meet again on earth. He arrived in Philadelphia and all the 
money he had was fifty cents. He went to a cheap hotel, got a 
room, paid the fifty cents for the same, threw himself into a 
chair and burst into tears, the first he had shed for years. 
Then he commenced a retrospective view of his life and said to 
himself that in the last ten years he had gone through with all 
his earnings, together with twelve thousand dollars his father 
had left him. Here he was alone in a strange city, without a 
dollar to help himself with and an entire stranger in the city. 
There was no one to speak to and he was six hundred miles 
from his wife and children. Sad indeed was it for the heart- 
broken stranger. 

At that moment some power seized him and said that it was 
no time for tears or baby talk. He must be up and get a move 
on. Now was the very moment to prove himself a man and 
not a thing. He took his pencil and wrote "A Yankee has 



I 50 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

come to town," telling what the Yankee could do and every 
line hinted at the impossible. " The Yankee could go fishing 
with the equinoctial line, and, with a mermaid for bait, draw 
Neptune from the brine." There were six or seven verses of 
the same sort. He took them to a newspaper office that night, 
stating that this Yankee wanted a place to work and to intro- 
duce himself to the city. The poem was printed the next morn- 
ing and that day he received sixteen different invitations to call 
at different stores. One of them was from the proprietor of a 
great clothing store. The firm was advertising largely all over 
the world and he selected that one to call upon first. He 
introduced himself by saying, "I received a letter from you this 
morning." The man looked the letter over and said, " You are 
the man who wrote that a Yankee had come to town." Dela 
wrote me that the man's face bore an expression of doubt as to 
whether he was the man or not, for Dela was a small man and 
had coarse features. Dela answered, "I am, sir." 

" If you are, 1 want you to write in verse my advertisements. 
What is your price for one year? " 

Dela's reply was : "I do not care to set a price on my ser- 
vices ; I had rather go to work, and if you think I am worth 
anything you may pay me what you think I am worth to you." 

He replied, " I would rather you would set some price." 

Dela thought for a moment and was on the point of saying 
$500 a year, when the proprietor asked him how $1800 would 
strike him. It struck him so hard he thought he would drop 
through the floor. But he mustered up courage to say, " I fear 
you will expect too much of me." 

"Well," was the reply, "I will give you that the first year 
and if you fill the bill, as I think you will, I will raise it the 
next year to $2500." 

Dela was not long in deciding to accept the proffered salary, 
and the next day he went to work. 

The landlord of the cheap hotel said as he had two trunks 
and a good place to work he could stay until he was ready to 
pay his board. He soon sent for his wife and children. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I 5 I 

Mr. Dela was a good stump speaker and writer on political 
subjects. He never left Tower Hall until his death. In i860, 
in the campaign of that year, he was nominated for sheriff of 
the county that the city of Philadelphia is in, on the Demo- 
cratic ticket, with Douglass. He took the stump, spoke and 
wrote both day and night, and he so overworked himself that 
his mind broke down before the campaign closed. He died in 
the insane hospital at Philadelphia at thirty-eight years of age. 

WILLIAM WEEKS. 

William Weeks of Bath, grandfather of Moses Owen, one of 
our most gifted poets, was a great reader and thinker and a 
mason by trade. When I was sixteen years of age my father 
moved from Brunswick to Bath, and Mr. Weeks was a neighbor 
of ours. He had suffered an attack of palsy and both hands 
shook so that he could hardly hold a glass to his lips when he 
wished to drink. In religion he was a Universalist and was 
looked upon as one of his satanic majesty's most useful ser- 
vants, who lead poor mortals into his kingdom. I had heard 
the Universalists called Satan's servants in the pulpit and so I 
was a little shy of Mr. Weeks at first. Still I felt it a duty to 
help him in his farm work and, notwithstanding his great 
infirmity he was very industrious, doing a great deal of work. 
I thought that I might be instrumental in saving his soul, which 
I feared was in great danger of being lost. Almost every day I 
would go over to his field and help him pile up brush, for at 
that time he was clearing up an alder swamp and burning the 
bushes. He owned a little dog that was a great animal for 
treeing partridges and he often lent him to me to hunt with, 
and with him to assist me I never failed to bring home one or 
more birds. I was a great chatterbox and was always arguing 
with Mr. Weeks on the doctrine of future punishment and 
attempting to prove it by the Scriptures. Mr. Weeks was a 
devoted Christian who loved his fellowmen, and I suppose he 
grew weary of my cheap talk. Seeing that his reasoning and 



152 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

logic failed to reach me, he determined to try some other 
method to convince me that I was wrong, and so one day, in 
the midst of my harangue, he interrupted me, saying, "John, 
are you aware that I think a good deal of you ? I think that 
you have a kind heart, and wish to see everyone happy, and I 
also think that you are doing all that you can to help them 
become so. Now, please note what I am about to say. I want 
you to keep ahead of all the boys in the neighborhood and I am 
about to give you a great lesson that no boy in town can 
answer. I want you to promise me that you will not tell it to 
anyone else." 

" I promise on my life, Mr. Weeks," said I. 

"Now, tell me," said he, "why a monkey doesn't talk. It 
has every organ of speech — lips, teeth, tongue and palate. 
Now, why does it not talk ? That is what I am about to teach 
you, but promise me once more that you will not divulge the 
secret." 

" You may depend upon it, Mr. Weeks, I will not tell while 
you live." 

"John, I do not believe in the monopoly of knowledge, for it 
is the prerogative of true greatness to build up and not drag 
down, and the more we know the more desirous we are to lift 
up our fellowmen. It is the language of hell to drag down and 
cry out, ' Behold, he has become as one of us.' This is a case 
where I think it best for you and all concerned not to tell." 

I was very impatient for the answer and asked him why he 
did not tell me. 

He replied, " First, I want to give a reason why I make an 
exception in this particular case. I don't want the boys to 
know what you know, for I want you to keep ahead of them. 
Now, I will tell you why a monkey doesn't talk. It is because 
it has nothing to say." 

I did not tell the boys, for I think I saw the point and slacked 
up on my talk, for a few days at least. One day we were piling 
brush in piles as large as a load of hay, when Mr. Weeks said 
to me, " John, you go to the stone wall and get three large 
stones, one of them flat." 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 53 

I got the stones and he placed them so that they made an 
oven, and then we piled the brush upon them ten or fifteen feet 
high. Then he called for the large flat stone and when I 
brought it he placed it in front of the arch so that it closed the 
arch and made a complete oven. 

" Shall I set the brush on fire ? " I asked. 

" Not yet," he replied; " it is not yet quite ready, John." 

I was greatly puzzled about the oven, not dreaming that I 
was about to be taught my first kindergarten lesson. The dog 
Watch lay in the sun near by, and Mr. Weeks said to me, 
" Now, I am ready. You bring Watch here and put him in the 
oven. He is getting old and the women folks are getting tired 
of having him around the house, so I think we had better get 
rid of him. Now is a good time to kill him." 

Had he struck me with an axe it would not have astonished 
me more than it did to propose the killing of the dog. I said 
to him, " Mr. Weeks, are you crazy ? I would never do such a 
thing as that. I would as soon think of putting a child in the 
fire as that dog. If you want him harmed catch him yourself." 

He called the dog and the animal walked close to his master 
and looked at him. Still he would not get quite near enough 
for Mr. Weeks to put his hand on him. I jumped over the 
stone wall I was so badly frightened, and I was sure that Mr. 
Weeks was insane. I hastened home and told father that 
Mr. Weeks was crazy. He laughed at me and said, " He is no 
more crazy than we are. That is one of his old jokes, for he 
is one of the most level-headed men in Bath. You will find out 
the meaning of his actions later on." 

The next afternoon I ventured to go over to see how Mr. 
Weeks was. I thought that perhaps he had committed suicide, 
but to my great surprise he was there in the swamp at work 
piling up brush. I was much pleased to see him, and there was 
Watch chasing the birds as usual. I started to get over the 
wall and Mr. Weeks looked up and said: "Don't you venture 
over that wall or ever again attempt to. You are the most 
wicked boy in town." 



154 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

I felt it most keenly, and I then thought that he was surely 
crazy. I supposed, if he was not beside himself, that someone 
had stolen his farming tools the night before and that he thought 
I was the guilty party. I said, " Mr. Weeks, I don't want to be 
treated this way. I have given you no cause for this and you 
are surely man enough to tell me why you forbid me to come 
upon your land." 

" I am and I will tell you. You told me yesterday that you 
were better than our Heavenly Father, and I do not wish to 
associate with anyone who would say that." 

" Mr. Weeks," I said, " what is the matter with you ? You 
act strangely. I never said such a thing or thought it in all 
my life." 

"Well, that is what you said plainer than words can tell, but 
if you really think you did not say or think so, come here and 
let us understand each other." 

I felt a little timid, but I thought that I Could defend myself 
physically and if not, I could outrun him. So I walked up and 
looking him squarely in the face, said : " Now, tell me what you 
mean, Mr. Weeks." 

" Have you not for several months, with all your gift of lan- 
guage, tried to convince me that our Heavenly Father would 
and had already banished some to everlasting punishment, and 
that the saints would look over the battlements of heaven and 
rejoice over the sufferings of His lost children ? John, you did 
not know how I felt when you tried so hard to represent my 
Heavenly Father to be such a monster. I know that punish- 
ment must be disciplinary or vindictive, and if endless it could 
not be disciplinary, for we derive no benefit from it. If vindic- 
tive, it is devilish. I saw I could not reach you by any appeal 
to your reason, and so I gave you an object lesson on the dog. 
Think it over, John." 

I did think it over again and again, but have never talked so 
much about it since. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 55 

JOSIAH S. LITTLE. 

Josiah Stover Little was born in Minot, July 9, 1801, and died 
in Portland, April 2, 1862. Mr. Little was graduated from 
Bowdoin College at the head of the famous class of 1825, which 
numbered among its members Hawthorne and others who after- 
wards became distinguished in their respective callings. After 
his graduation Mr. Little studied law in Portland, where he 
afterwards resided. He practiced law but a few years, going 
into business in which he was successfully engaged the remain- 
der of his life. 

He was for many years president of the Atlantic & St. Law- 
rence Railroad Co., and it was under his management that the 
leasing of the Grand Trunk Railway was accomplished. He 
was connected with the Berlin Mills Company for a number of 
years and was its head. He was also interested in important 
lumbering enterprises in eastern Maine. 

Mr. Little took a deep interest in politics and was Speaker of 
the House of Representatives in the Maine Legislature for 
several years. He was always honored and respected in the 
community where he lived. 

He was one of nature's noblemen and to have a smile from 
him was a benediction, for " all the gods had set their seals 
upon his brow to give the world assurance of a man." I 
had many opportunities to study and to know him. He was 
my constant patron from October, 1845, to the time of his 
passing over the so-called dark river, on April 2, 1862. He, of 
all men I ever met, had the greatest power to lift up and 
encourage one. If I entered his office, when crowded with 
men, I would feel that it was no place for me at that time. 
Notwithstanding his surroundings and press of business, he, 
noticing my embarrassment as I started back to leave the room, 
with that commanding manner of his, would look up with an 
expression that bade me welcome, and say, " Sit down a moment 
John, or if you are in a hurry step in again." He never let any 
one open his door and leave either in haste or in fright, without 



I56 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

noticing him, for with him rudeness or impoliteness was too 
expensive a luxury to indulge in. 

On the 4th of July, 1846, the city was astir at an early hour. 
I was at my shop at four in the morning and did not leave until 
four in the afternoon, for on that day the city was full, but not 
the people. It was the day of days of the year, for the great 
Atlantic & St. Lawrence Railroad was to be commenced on 
that day, and Judge Preble had been selected as the man to 
throw out the first shovelful of earth as a beginning of the great 
enterprise that has resulted in the Grand Trunk road, that is 
destined to make Portland one of the most important cities on 
the coast. On that morning I remember distinctly some of the 
men I shaved, among them being Hannibal Hamlin and J. J. 
Perry, both members of Congress ; Jedediah Jewett, Capt. 
James C. Churchill, Joshua Dunn, ex-Gov. David Dunn of 
Poland, John A. Poor, William C. Beckett, and Josiah Storer 
Little, who became the first president of the road. In just two 
years from that day the first train arrived from Yarmouth. 
That w 7 as another great day for Portland. Only think of it, 
you railroad builders of to-day ! Taking two years to build 
eleven miles of road ! There has been a great change since 
then in the methods of construction. In 1850 the cars ran to 
South Paris, and that year I made a contract with President 
Little and hired the cars for an excursion to South Paris. I 
arranged for the first three excursions that ever went over the 
Grand Trunk from Portland. The first one was to South Paris, 
the second to Norway, and the third to Gorham, N. H. On 
the first — to Paris, there were over a thousand passengers. I 
furnished them with tickets and a hot dinner of baked beans, 
brown and white bread, hard bread, cheese, corned beef, boiled 
tongue, tea and coffee. We had Chandler's Band. I paid the 
road fifty cents per head and charged only seventy-five cents 
apiece for the trip, including the dinner and music. And I 
cleared a tidy sum for my labor. In addition to this, I hired a 
man to go there two days in advance and -he put up a large 
camp-meeting tent. I had hired the tent of S. R. Leavitt, who 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 57 

had it stored in his sail loft. So we took our dinner under 
cover. That day I was the biggest toad (or Todd) in the 
puddle. 

I made an agreement with Mr. Little for an excursion to 
Gorham, N. H. I had his word and that was enough. He 
was to have the tickets for me in a few days. The next day he 
sent the office boy for me and when I went over he said, " John, 
what am I to do ? I am in trouble and you are the only one to 
help me out." He did not say as some would have said, "You 
cannot have the cars for an excursion to Gorham, for on the 
same day I let them to you, Mr. Courser, the superintendent of 
the road, let them to Mr. Chandler of the band, for an excur- 
sion to the same place." He said, " We have seen Mr. Chand- 
ler and he holds Mr. Courser to his agreement, and I do not 
want to interfere with the arrangement Mr. Courser has made, 
for really he has the right of way in the matter, he being the 
superintendent of the road." "Well, Mr. Little," said I, " I can 
see a way out, and I don't think it will compromise anyone. 
You and Mr. Courser consider both contracts off as the easiest 
way out of the difficulty, and I will see Mr. Chandler and have 
a talk with him. We are old friends and he is a good fellow 
and a reasonable man. You control the affairs. You can hire 
me to advertise and arrange the excursion for you and you can 
hire Mr. Chandler and his band." "What will you do it for? 
Give me your figures." I gave him my price, fifty dollars. He 
replied, " It is a bargain." He saw Mr. Chandler and made a 
trade with him without difficulty. I got up the excursion ; the 
road took five hundred over expenses and Mr. Chandler and I 
received fifty dollars each. 

About that time I had a young friend in the wood business 
in Portland who had but little capital. He came to me and 
said, "Todd, do you want to make a dollar?" "Yes, two," I 
said. " Can you raise four or five hundred dollars ? " " Yes.''" 
" Now is our chance to make a fortune. There is in South 
Paris a large tract of land covered with a fine growth of wood 
and timber and we can land it at the depot for about $2.25 per 



I58 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

cord, while we can get $5.00 per cord in Portland." " That is 
a good thing. I will give you an answer as soon as I see Mr. 
Little, president of the road, and get his price for bringing the 
wood over the road to Portland." "O, the price will be all 
right; there will be no trouble about that." "There won't be 
when I get the figures," I replied. The next day Mr. Little 
came in and I laid the case before him. He smiled and said, 
"John, you are away behind the times; there have been three 
before you to see me about that trade and my answer was 
this : " We shall charge you about the difference there is 
between the two markets, or I will pay you $2.50 per cord for 
all the wood you will land at our depot in South Paris." I could 
see no money in it, so I gave it up. I said, " Mr. Little, are 
there no checks in railway charters to prevent this ? It gives 
them almost supreme power over the farmers as well as every 
producer and manufacturer." He said, "This is an exceptional 
case. This is a case of self-preservation, for we are burning 
wood in our locomotives and we want to keep all we can from 
the markets. We must do it, or very soon we would not run 
any cars." That was before coal was used for fuel to run cars. 
" I know that, Mr. Little," said I, "but it appears to me that 
this great power for good, or for evil, should have some limit, 
and not be left to the sweet will of selfish men, whose interest 
it is to charge high freights." He gave me a look that I inter- 
preted as saying, " You are trespassing upon sacred ground ; 
how came you to think of that ? That is too deep water for 
you to be floundering in." He, smilingly, said, "John, I am 
not going to be rude, or impolite, neither do I intend to hedge 
up inquiry for with you inquiry is more than habit. The laws 
of trade will regulate the freight charges. John, now let me 
intrude a little advice. This subject is too large for you or me 
to remedy, and we must let it alone and stick to our business — 
you to your razor and I to railroading." I had not read at 
that time the discussion on the interstate laws, nor of the fights 
in Rome for centuries for free roads, with the slogan, that all 
roads lead to Rome, and the king's highway must not be 
hedged up. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 59 

When I came to Portland, in 1844, to make it my home, I 
found the city fenced in, or, more properly, shut out from the 
rest of the world by toll bridges. A man could not come into 
the city to sell a bushel of potatoes, or a peck of beans, without 
paying the toll-keeper for the privilege of selling his product. 

I could not carry my best girl to ride out in the country with- 
out paying to a few men twenty-five cents for the privilege. It 
was not because I was mean or because I did not enjoy the 
ride, for they were real pleasant rides, fully as much so as when 
in after years we could ride out with two or more children with 
us and free bridges to pass over. But I kept up my protest 
against toll bridges. They used to tell me I did not know what 
I was talking about, that such talk was all wrong, and I was 
infringing upon the right of private property ; that these men 
had put their money into the bridges, and that under the con- 
stitution we could not trouble them. 

It is evident to my mind now that Mr. Little, with his clear 
head and cultivated mind, saw at a glance that the destroying 
of toll bridges and corporations by government control would 
soon destroy private ownership, and even the competitive sys- 
tem altogether. Hence he thought it too big a subject for me 
and advised me in a very polite manner to stick to my razor. 
And I will say here that the man who chanced to be born too 
soon to have met Josiah Stover Little was most unfortunate, 
indeed. I should have been pleased had he left a son to per- 
petuate the father's name, but it was not so to be. He did 
leave one daughter, a lovely woman, who, as I have written 
before, became the wife of Col. Charles B. Merrill, one of Port- 
land's noble men, a lawyer, soldier and friend. He left one 
son, John F. A. Merrill, who has inherited many of his father's 
and grandfather Little's traits of character. He is a man highly 
respected as a citizen, and as an attorney at law has but few 
equals. I predict a bright future for him. Mr. Little built for 
his future home that beautiful mansion on State street, opposite 
St. Luke's Cathedral, where he resided during his life time. 

In i860, when the Prince of Wales was visiting Portland, he 



l6o ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

stopped at the house of Mr. Little. There was a great crowd 
in the street in front of his residence, and Mr. Little, standing 
upon the portico, made a speech that afterwards was harshly 
criticised, for at that time there might have been a lingering 
spark of the Mowatt blaze left in view of his critics. They 
accused him of stooping to conquer, for he said the time would 
and must come when the English-speaking people would unite 
in the interest of peace, and war would cease, for commerce 
would rule and control nations. The ties of consanguinity, 
blood and language would accomplish the rest. I think we can 
see it was a prophetic utterance, and not flattery. 

THOMAS FAMILY. 

The Thomas family is one of the oldest in the city and most 
remarkable in respect to longevity, generosity, music, mirthful- 
ness, and independence of character. The father, Elias 
Thomas, Esq., was one of my first customers. He was my 
patron and friend over twenty-five years, from 1845 to 1872, 
when he passed away at the age of one hundred years and 
seven months. The Thomas family is one of five families in 
this city for whom I have done hairdressing for a period cover- 
ing four generations. These families are the Thomases, the 
Woodburys, the Churchills, the Foxes and the Birxtons. 

I think that the fifth generation of the Churchill family in my 
time is represented by the child of Mr. and Mrs. Hall, and if 
this child should be brought to me I would have served five 
generations. I think that the mother of Mr. Hall was the 
daughter of Commodore James M. Churchill. 

It seems but a short time since we boys and girls used to 
congregate at the corner of Congress and India streets to 
attend the Thomas concerts. The Thomas mansion stood 
there for many years and was one of the most imposing resi- 
dences in the city. Its site is now occupied by the Church of 
the Messiah. I will write a few words concerning the music in 
the Thomas home in the forties and in 1866, at the time of the 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS l6l 

great fire. The Thomas Quartette consisted of Dr. Charles 
Thomas, violin ; Edward Thomas, flute ; George Thomas, 
French horn, and Miss Charlotte Thomas, piano. Sometimes 
the latter was assisted by her sister, Elizabeth, who is still liv- 
ing, cheerful and happy, and a joy to all who meet her. She 
has spent her life of over ninety years in doing good. In early 
life she was married to Phineas Fox Varnum, one of Portland's 
leading business men, whom I knew well as a whole-souled 
man, kind, sociable and generous. Hon. W. W. Thomas was 
a fine bass singer and when at home would assist the others in 
the music. George and Charlotte are still with us, joyous and 
cheerful as ever. At that time, on the corner of Congress and 
Franklin streets, where there is now an ice cream and confec- 
tionery establishment, stood a drug store kept by Charles E. 
Beckett and back of the store he had an ice cream garden, 
which, with its trees and shrubbery, was a very pretty place. 
Now when I go in where, sixty odd years ago, I used to get ice 
cream I tell the young clerks about the old store. After taking 
an ice cream we would walk up to the Thomas concert, where 
we would meet with fifty or more standing upon the street, 
listening to the music and occasionally cheering. On warm 
evenings the windows would be open and we could both see 
the performers and hear the strains of music plainly. Many 
years ago I came to the conclusion that these concerts were 
not given for the especial benefit of the Thomas family, but for 
the instruction and enjoyment of the poor and those who were 
not able to attend public entertainments. 

When now I hear the present Thomas mansion spoken of, 
although it has stood at the corner of Danforth and State 
streets for many years, my mind reverts back to the old Thomas 
homestead at the corner of Congress and India streets, with its 
old oaken bucket, its concerts and other attractions. In my 
opinion it is the place of all others that we should call the 
Thomas mansion, the home of one of the most gifted and 
benevolent families that Portland ever had. The Hon. W. W. 
Thomas, the eldest of the family, was for years a leading 



1 62 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

business man in the city, ever ready to extend a helping hand to 
every enterprise, state, church or business. As mayor during 
the first years of the Civil War, he was untiring in his efforts in 
behalf of the Union. When I first started in business I was in 
the habit of having notes discounted, hiring money of the bank 
of which Mr. Thomas was president. At one time he was in 
my shop and said to me, "John, you may think that what I am 
about to say to you is none of my business, but it is for your 
interest. You know that I am president of the Canal Bank 
and we bankers make our money from interest money. It is 
for our interest, therefore, to cash all the good notes that are 
presented to us, and yours being good have never been refused. 
Still, why do you hire money? It is a great moth and no man 
who earns his money by labor should make a practice of bor- 
rowing money. Take your own case ; you have a note for one 
hundred dollars and you pay six to eight dollars a year for it. 
A working man should never give notes. Of course there are 
exceptions to all rules, but as a general rule I am correct. Now 
I will give you my reason for the assumption. A working man 
who is paid weekly or monthly has about as much money at 
one time as another. When his note becomes due he has no 
more money than he had when he borrowed it. So he has to 
renew his note or maybe the bank will not renew it. Perhaps 
the bank is in league with some broker and then you are in 
great trouble and forced to pay an exorbitant fee to some curb- 
stone broker or lose your credit. It is quite different with the 
business man. For instance, a merchant has a large cargo of 
goods arrive and he must pay for them. He puts his note in 
the bank, receives the money and pays for the goods. He has 
not spent the money as you have done and perhaps bought 
double the amount you would have bought if you had not bor- 
rowed the money and were feeling a little flush. Have you not 
done so sometimes, John ? 

I told him, that I had, and he continued : 

" The merchant has not spent his money, mind you. He 
has only exchanged it for merchandise and he still holds its 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 63 

equivalent in goods. When he sells the goods he has made a 
profit and has the money to pay his note with. You see the 
difference, John." 

Well, I think that I did and as in many cases I saw the right 
and approved it too. I have seen the wrong and still the 
wrong pursued, and lost many a dollar I should not have lost 
had I followed the advice given me. Often have I seen the 
truth of the proposition, but have lacked the will power to 
enforce it, not knowing at that time the proper food to take in 
order to strengthen the will that it might enforce the injunction 
to do right. Aspiration and prayer form the only food that the 
will can thrive upon and grow strong when weakened by desire. 

One day I met W. W. Thomas. I saw him approaching, 
apparently in deep meditation, and he stopped and said, "Good 
morning, John, what are you doing down here ? " I told him 
that I was out for a morning walk and to ask him a question. 

" What is it ? " said he. " Let me have it." 

"As I saw you approaching, Mr. Thomas, the thought came 
to me, knowing the power and force of habit as well as I do, to 
ask you to explain to me how it is possible for you, who have 
stood for half a century figuring and counting cent per cent, 
investing for profit and laboring to increase your store — I say, 
how is it possible for you to have retained so much of that 
Thomas generosity as is manifested from day to day in your 
life?" His answer was laconic, "What put that into your 
head ? " 

I said, "That is what I want to know, Mr. Thomas." 

With a smile on his face he left me. To-day, in looking 
back over the panorama of life, a life of eighty-five years, I 
can see how it is possible for a man to keep the Christ spirit 
uppermost in his heart and mind all through life, amid the try- 
ing and uncongenial environments that one has to encounter. 
I have met many such in my short career and one such was the 
late Dr. Charles W. Thomas of this famous family. He was a 
wonder in his profession. Dr. Ludwig, a noted physician of 
this city, told me that Dr. Thomas was the most marvelous 



164 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

man that he ever met. His great insight or gift of looking into 
symptoms and telling what was the matter with the patient, and 
his diagnosis of a case never failed to be correct. He could 
see no explanation to account for it, unless we assume that he 
was a genius and possessed a power that but few if any men 
had. The doctor attended me when I had a severe attack of 
rheumatic fever. For over a month he called twice a day. He 
was very particular about my diet and allowed me but little 
food. One day I was craving for some stewed beans, but he 
insisted that it was too soon for me to eat them. After he left 
I told my wife to cook some and I would eat a few. She 
entreated me not to have them, but to no purpose, for have 
them I would ; she cooked them and I ate some. I do not 
think she intended to get rid of me by so doing and send me to 
the other side of Jordan, for she always tried to please me. 
Later on the doctor came. I was restless, with face flushed 
and pulse quickened. He felt of my pulse and said to my wife, 
" What has he been doing ? " 

" Well, Doctor," she replied, " he would have some beans and 
I gave them to him." 

"You should not have done so, as it may cause his death." 

I saw that he was offended and showed an anxious look. I, 
as usual, tried to joke a little,, and said to him, " Doctor, there 
are two ends to this yarn." 

" What are they, John ? " 

" Doctor, if I live, you will have a chance to dun me for your 
bill, and if I should die you can have my body to dissect." 

Next morning he looked in and said to my wife, "Is he 
dead ? " I felt real smart. He said, " Keep right on feeding 
him on pork and beans ; there is no need of my calling any 
more." 

When I joked the doctor I had no fear of death, for it has 
ever been impressed on my mind that I should live to be old, 
and if some unlooked-for accident does not occur, I have no 
doubt that I shall live to be quite aged, as I have passed my 
eighty-fifth year. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 65 

There is another incident in the life of this great physician 
that I will mention. The doctor, as well as the other members 
of the family, was a great singer. He sang for years in the 
choir of the First Parish Church. One Sunday morning a little 
boy ran up the stairs to the singers' seats, called the doctor out 
and said, " Father is bleeding to death at the lungs. Come 
with me quickly, or father will die." 

At first thought the doctor replied : " I cannot go now, as we 
are ready to sing, and it being a quartette it will break up the 
singing. You must get some other doctor." 

The little fellow burst out crying and said, " Father will die." 
Seeing the tears run down the child's cheeks, the doctor said, 
" Singing may go to the dogs ; I will go." He went and saved 
the man's life. That boy worked for me for years ; he went on 
a sailing trip in 1881 and was drowned. It happened that he 
perished on April 8, the birthday of his mother and my own. 
The father of Scott Sawyer outlived them both, passing away but 
a few years ago at the age of ninety. The young man always 
spoke of Dr. Thomas in heartfelt praise whenever he saw him, 
for he felt that he saved his father's life. 

I could write many more incidents of this kind-hearted family, 
but it would be a waste of space and time, for everyone here in 
Portland knows of their generosity, and thousands have been 
recipients of their gifts. I could write page upon page of the 
kind deeds performed by George and Charlotte Thomas, but 
there is no need of that for they are known of all men in these 
parts. I was met one day by one of our leading judges, and 
he said to me, " Todd, you are getting the people of Portland 
afraid to die, fearing that you will write them up." 

I said, "They needn't trouble themselves on that account, 
for that will not help them any, as I am about to write up some 
of the living, and when I do they may wish they were dead. 
But then I won't be too hard on them." 

The influence of example upon the minds of children no one 
can tell or realize, but it is there just the same, whether we 
notice it at the time or not. I remember one object lesson the 



1 66 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

mother of the Thomas family gave her children. The great 
woman that she was, known far and near for her kindness to 
all, no wonder the family are humanitarian and their hearts 
ever beat in sympathy with the poor and needy. A colored 
woman used to do the washing at the Thomas home and she 
had a family of small children who were at school. The school- 
house for colored children at that time was in the rear of the 
Thomas mansion. After school, at noon, the children were 
passing the home and the mother told them to go home, as 
she was detained. Mrs. Thomas, hearing the conversation, 
told the colored woman to let them take their meals there with 
her when they were able to do so. "There are too many of 
them," said the mother. 

"Never mind that," said Mrs. Thomas; "the more the 
merrier." The colored woman told my wife about it a few 
days after the occurrence. No wonder the family was all right 
on the charity question with such surroundings at the parent 
home. 

A harp composed of exquisite flowers was laid upon the 
funeral casket of the late Dr. Charles W. Thomas — a fitting 
emblem for one whose soul was filled with harmony but whose 
earthly music is now forever hushed. As I looked on that 
beautiful symbol there came to my listening ear sweeter melody 
than was ever heard upon earth, and the thought came to my 
mind : " He has only exchanged his earthly music for the 
heavenly — laid down his violin to strike the golden harp in 
heaven. He has died in the springtime, our beautiful Easter 
season, when everything in nature is bursting forth into new 
life and beauty, fitting emblem of the resurrection of our blessed 
Lord and Saviour. We trust his spirit has flown to the land of 
fadeless flowers, where everlasting springs abide." 

" Thus will we think of him in the heavenly bowers, 
With the sweet wreath and harp of fragrant flowers, 
That changed to gold within his angel hand. 
Now that he's reached the bright and better land. 
The white camelia fades not from his breast, 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 67 

Nor from his face the smile of one that's blest ; 
The white rose wreath to him on earth was given. 
He wears it now around his brow in heaven. 
Thus will we think of him in the land of love : 
'Twas God who called him to His home above, 
And with his sainted mother to rejoice — 
A sweet seraphic chorus for his voice." 

FIRST YACHT CLUB. 

In 1854 a few men, I with them, organized the first yacht 
club that Portland ever had. The book containing all the names 
and the facts therein I gave to Mr. Isaac Atkinson to present 
to the Portland Yacht Club, and I suppose it is there now, 
although I have not heard whether they have received it or not. 
He told me he gave it to them. 

On one trip of the "Happy Family," that was the name of 
the club, consisting of the following gentlemen : Thomas Brown, 
banker ; Josiah Pennell, a retired merchant ; George M. Elder, 
William Dyer, George Thayer, druggist ; Louis Dela, lawyer ; 
Charles Averill, merchant ; Ned True, merchant ; George 
Wright, a printer, and I, John M. Todd, who was the sailing 
master (William Dyer and myself, I think, are the only ones now 
living), we sailed in the sloop, "Trefethen." We started for 
Harpswell to see the bark Chevelier launched, built by the 
Pennells of Harpswell for Capt. Isaac Knight. On our return 
we encountered one of the most severe squalls known in this 
vicinity. I saw it approaching and knew by the dust-covered 
islands and the trees at the windward on the islands bending 
and twisting. I could plainly hear the roaring blast, and ordered 
every sail taken in and furled securely. They laughed me to 
scorn, called me a coward. It made no difference to me, for 
down came the sails for I was determined to carry out the 
teaching of that grand old Captain Bibber to take in all sails 
when I saw a storm approaching. It was well that I did, for a 
boat, in the bay with three young Portland boys, was capsized 
and they were all drowned on that occasion for they did not take 



1 68 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

in the sails. It continued blowing so we put back to Harpswell 
for we were in the midst of Broad Sound when it struck us. 

The next day friends of our party chartered a small steamer 
and sent her down the bay in search of us, supposing we were 
drowned as the other boat's company had been, but I had 
brought her safely in port, and to the joy of all, we met her off 
Long Island as we were returning home. 

On that trip we had taken with us the most verdant youth 
from the country that I or anyone else ever saw. He said he 
was from Spider Lake, and I reckon he was. On our way 
down across Broad Sound it was quite rough and all hands were 
as sea-sick as they could be, while that lunkhead was chewing 
his hardbread as though he had not tasted food for a month, 
and he said he had never seen any hardbread before. Dela, 
who could always enjoy a good joke, sick or well, said, "The 
fool, he don't know enough to be sick." The fellow looked up 
with a vacant stare and a grin no man ever gave before unless 
he was from Spider Lake, and as he champed away upon his 
hardbread, said, "I thought you said this was a pleasure boat." 
Poor Dela, sick as he could be, said, "Is it not a pleasure boat ? 
The boy drawled out "Well, if it is, what in thunder are you all 
puking for? There ain't any pleasure in that." Dela said: 
" He is more sensible than the rest of us for we are seeking 
pleasure and going out into rough seas for the sake of being 
sick like real fools that we are, while he has sense enough to 
ask us where the laugh comes in, and we can't tell him, at least 
I can't." 

My friend, Mell Snow, who had worked for me many a day, 
was a jolly good fellow and a dandy. He went to Boston on a 
trip and there attended a ball, and an Eastport belle was there 
— " one of the high steppers " so Mell said. Mell was a fine 
looking fellow, well dressed and wore his diamond ring. He 
danced with her, had her name on his card for either three or 
four dances. The second, she said, " What is your business, 
sir?" Said he to me: "I knew it was all up with me then 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 69 

because of the prejudice against the trade, and with a haughty 
look he said, 'I am a barber.' She was horrified, and said, ' I 
thought you were a bar-tender.' " She wanted to have his name 
stricken from her card. That was a slight indication of the pre- 
judice existing at that time and a hint of the times when a man 
who sawed hard wood should not associate with a man who 
sawed slabs. 

CAPTAIN INGERSOLL. 

The Ingersolls were among the earliest families that settled 
in Portland, their farm being located to the eastward of Center 
Street. It commenced at Congress Street and ran to the water 
front. Isaac Ingersoll was a descendant of that family and 
when I first knew him, in 1844, he was in partnership with L. 
D. Cole in the confectionary and restaurant business on Exchange 
Street below Middle. Afterwards he opened the best eating 
house that Portland had up to that time. It was in the brick 
block called the Fox block, that stood on the corner of Middle 
and Exchange streets. The block was destroyed in the great 
fire of 1866. Mr. Ingersoll's store was on the Middle street 
side where the Rialto restaurant now stands. His eldest son, 
Thomas, followed the sea. He had three sons and one daughter. 
She married Capt. Ellis Sawyer of Cape Elizabeth, who was 
killed at Spottsylvania court house, Virginia, in the Civil War. 
I think there is only one of the children now living, the young- 
est son, Richmond Ingersoll, who is treasurer of the York County 
Savings Bank, Biddeford. I knew Mr. Ingersoll's oldest son, 
Thomas, when he was mate of the ship Francis P. Sage of New 
York. One day Mr. Ingersoll came in with face beaming with 
smiles and said, " Thomas has got the ship and is now in com- 
mand of her, as the captain is going to stay at home this 
voyage. She goes on a China voyage and it will be a long 
voyage for him." 

" He is rather young for so responsible a position." I said, 
t; If he was not capable they would not have placed him in 
command." 



I70 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

One of Capt. Thomas Ingersoll's sons — he had two — is 
now an officer on board the lightship off Portland harbor. 
On a voyage from China to Havana, Cuba, with a crew of forty, 
all told, the captain's wife, maid and two children were on 
board. They also had on board during the home passage 350 
coolies sent to Havana to labor on the plantations. The ship 
was prepared for just such a company, for it was not an 
uncommon thing on such a voyage for the coolies to rise, mur- 
der all hands and take charge of the ship. So this ship was 
prepared for just that sort of trouble. A barricade was placed 
across the ship's deck, just aft the mainmast, as a sailor 
would say. There were doors and openings in the partition to 
fire through in case of an uprising of the coolies. A small 
cannon was also placed aft and this also had a place through 
which to be run in the barricade, so that the deck might 
be swept and the murderous pack put down in short order. 

The ship had been at sea about two weeks, and everything 
was moving along pleasantly. The crew were at work as usual, 
the ship's carpenter being engaged in making a spar. He had 
just laid down his axe when a whistle and a shrill cry went up 
and the coolies swarmed upon the deck, striking the carpenter 
on the arm and disabling him. 

The crew rushed aft according to agreement and closed the 
door that led to the after part of the ship. The captain had 
prepared provisions sufficient to last during a long siege, but 
the coolies only held the deck from 6 a. m. to 5 p. m. Captain 
Ingersoll did not order the cannon fired in order to sweep the 
deck, as he could have done, for he did not wish to destroy life 
when it was unnecessary, but about thirty of the coolies were 
slain. When all hope of taking the ship was gone the ring- 
leaders jumped overboard and the rest ran below and set the 
ship on fire between decks. On board was a young boy who 
was a regular " plugugly." He was a lad from the Bowery in 
New York and he cared for nothing. He stood by the captain's 
side all day during the uprising and when the captain asked 
who would go below with him to face the madmen to help put 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I 7 I 

out the fire and save the ship and those on board, this brave 
little fellow was at his side and said, " I dare go wherever you 
dare go. Come on, and I'll go." Down below the brave 
fellows went with pistols in hand, and those cowards slunk 
away in fear while the captain and the boy put out the fire and 
saved the ship. All arrived safely at Havana and if I only 
knew the name of that boy, be he saint or sinner, I would be 
most happy to write it here. 

CALEB CUSHING. 

On Saturday, June 27, 1863, the sun rose in all its regal 
splendor, flushing both earth and sea. Old ocean looked as 
placid as a lake, there being not a ripple to disturb its bosom. 
The citizens of Portland were early astir, going to their daily 
tasks when the news spread rapidly throughout the city that 
the cutter Caleb Cushing had been stolen from her moorings, 
or captured and taken to sea with those of her crew who were 
on board. On the arrival of the Boston steamer Forest City 
it was reported that she was seen being towed out through 
Hussey's Sound at the north of Hog Island, now Diamond 
Island. 

To overtake, recapture and bring her back to the city was 
the all important question, and what means could be used to 
perform that task was not an easy problem to solve, for there 
were no ships of war in port or on the coast that could be 
reached in season to capture this armed cutter. Still, retaken 
she must be. 

Mr. Jewett, the collector of the port, came into my shop to 
be shaved and he was greatly excited. " I suppose," said he, 
" that you have heard that the cutter has been captured ? " 

"Yes, I heard that she had left the harbor, but it is not 
known whether there is a mutiny on board, or whether she has 
been captured by the rebels. What are you going to do about 
it, Mr. Jewett ? " 

"What are we going to do about it! Why, we must and 
shall recapture her." 



172 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

"That is easier said than done," I replied. 

"Come," said he, "hurry up and shave me, for I never was 
in a greater hurry. By the way, John, you have been to sea, 
now come and go aboard the steamer and help take her." 

" Mr. Jewett, I feel as the clown felt not long ago — I am 
willing to live for my country, but not to die for it. Now, to be 
serious, Mr. Jewett, if you attempt to capture, with the Boston 
and New York steamers, that armed cutter, the boats with all 
on board will go to the bottom." 

" Well, that is what we propose to do — either capture or sink 
the cutter with those steamers, the Forest City and the Chesa- 
peake, or go to the bottom. John, you have courage enough 
to swing the razor, but you have not enough to wield the 
sword." 

To me it has ever seemed marvelous or providential that the 
steamers with all on board were not sent to the bottom, and I 
have ever felt that those noble men and patriots who would not 
inform those who captured the cutter where the ammunition 
was concealed, even when in irons and with pistols placed at 
their heads, should have their names go down in history beside 
those whose names are enrolled on the scroll of fame. I have 
been to the Custom House to find the names of those men, but 
there are no records left — none, at least, to be found. They 
have either been lost or were burned in the great fire of 1866. 
The only name that I can learn is that of Thomas HefTron, 
who was at one time employed in the Post Office. 

On the morning that the Boston boat arrived she reported 
seeing the cutter being towed to sea. Then the hustling on 
board began. Mr. Jewett, the collector of the port, and Captain 
McLellan had decided to recapture the cutter with the New 
York and Boston boats. A part of the cargo of the Boston 
boat consisted of bales of cotton and raw hides and with these 
they packed the boilers. The Boston boat started first on the 
trip, as the New York craft was not ready, and waited out to 
sea. For some reason which I never learned, Captain Knight 
of the Boston boat was replaced by Captain Liscomb. The 
New York boat was in command of Captain McLellan. 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 1 73 

As they neared the cutter the commander, Captain Reed, of 
the Southern navy, saw the New York boat and took her to be 
a United States gunboat, as she had two masts. He at once 
began preparations to leave the cutter and blow her up. He 
took all the cutter's crew, put them in irons, and then placed 
them in a boat without oars and set them adrift. Captain 
Reed had captured the fishing schooner Archer off Monhegan 
Island and, placing a pistol at the captain's head, had compelled 
him to pilot them to the city. 

But one life was sacrificed in the attempt to capture the 
cutter and burn the city. Daniel Gould, while assisting in dis- 
charging the guns from the schooner Archer at the Custom 
House wharf, was killed by the accidental discharge of a 
musket. The cutter's crew were picked up by the New York 
boat, and Captain Reed had his white flag of truce flying at the 
time. His crew were all put in irons by a colored man, who 
was large and powerful and a steward on the Boston boat. He 
handled them rather roughly and they swore and protested 
against the indignity of being ironed by a negro, but it was of 
no avail, for the Yankee spirit was aroused to fever heat on 
that morning. 

Captain Reed was a very small man in stature and weighed 
but one hundred and thirty pounds. He had on a suit of blue 
owned by a lieutenant of the cutter, who weighed two hundred 
and fifty pounds. When Reed went into the cabin of the 
Forest City and caught a glimpse of himself he laughed very 
much. He was a very jolly fellow and every one who met him 
liked him. 

It had been planned for the New York boat to run the cutter 
down, but the latter was on fire before she could do this. Had 
Reed found the ammunition the outcome might have been 
different. The cutter had amidships a 42-pound cannon, while 
the New York boat had a cannon which carried only a six- 
pound shot. It was Reed's intention that morning to set fire 
to the wharves and shipping, burn the city, and then put to sea 
and waylay the Boston boat as near to Boone Island as he could 



174 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

get. He was going to take all the passengers on the boat to 
the nearest southern port and also take the cutter to a south- 
ern port. It was a regular Paul Jones plan and had he carried 
it out he would have ever stood high in the estimation of his 
fellows in the South. 

The only reason for not carrying out the plan was that for 
twelve hours there had not been a breath of wind. There had 
been a strong breeze the day before and there was one shortly 
after the cutter was sunk. It does seem to me that an Intelli- 
gent Power, whose hands have been seen through all history 
ever making for righteousness, was in this case of the Caleb 
Cushing, for had there been any wind that night or the next 
morning nothing could have saved our city. When Captain 
Reed became convinced that he could not find the ammunition 
he broke up kettles and all kinds of iron and chain cables to 
put in the gun. He fired upon the approaching steamers and 
the iron flew over their decks. The captain had found the 
powder but could not locate the balls. 

The cutter had shortly before been fitted out for the purpose 
of capturing the small Confederate vessel Tallahassee that was 
destroying craft along our coast. The captain of the Talla- 
hassee had captured the Ella Caroline and Sarah B. Harris. 
Reed then put the crews on board the Sarah B. Harris, bonded 
her and set her adrift. The captain of the Harris straightened 
things out as he took command of his vessel and brought her 
safely into Portland. For a long time I wondered how it was 
possible for Reed to board the cutter, as they always keep a 
watch of one or two men on deck day and night, but the adroit 
captain knew that and had laid his plans accordingly. He 
took two of the Archer's fishing boats, kept one back in the 
dark and rowed up on the farther side of the cutter, and the 
man who kept watch hailed him with " Boat ahoy ! " He 
answered the hail, stopped rowing and engaged him in conver- 
sation, asking him questions in a very cordial manner. His 
object was to keep him at the rail as long as possible, so that 
the other boat's crew could row alongside and climb over the 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I 75 

other side, as they did. They seized the watchman by the 
throat and put him in irons before anyone on board the cutter 
knew about it, all being asleep below. All Captain Reed had 
to do was to close the cabin doors and thus come into complete 
control of the ship. Not a blow was struck or a gun fired. 

The captain of the cutter had passed away and a part of the 
crew were on shore to attend the funeral with Second Lieuten- 
ant Waldron. The first lieutenant was in charge of the vessel, 
awaiting the arrival of the captain who had recently been 
appointed to take the place of the one who had died. The first 
lieutenant belonged in the state of Georgia, and it was thought 
at first that he had sailed off or rather rowed off with the cutter, 
it being thought that he was in sympathy with the southern 
rebellion. This opinion prevailed until Captain Reed was 
captured. 

Shortly after the capture Capt. William Trefethen landed at 
the dock and met part of the cutter's crew, who told him that 
the vessel had been captured. The captain already knew that 
she was gone, but knew not who had taken her out or where she 
was bound. He hastened to board the Forest City, but she had 
gone out. He was determined to go, however, and hurried to 
go aboard the New York boat, which he had learned was 
to assist in the recapture of the cutter. When he attempted to 
board the New York boat he was told that they had all the 
men they wanted, except a pilot. Capt. William Willard told 
Captain McLellan that Captain Trefethen was the very man he 
wanted for the position, for he knew that Captain Trefethen 
was familiar with every port and harbor on the coast from New 
York to Eastport. Captain McLellan asked Trefethen how 
long it would take him to get ready and the latter replied that 
he was ready then, and jumped aboard the vessel. The New 
York steamer then started for the fray. On the way out they 
passed the Forest City making off from the cutter, for when she 
approached the cutter the latter opened fire. 

The New York boat kept right on, however, for it was the 
intention of Captain McLellan to run her down. When he saw 



176 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

that the cutter was on fire he stopped, fearing an explosion, 
and Captain Trefethen begged Captain McLellan to allow him 
to take a boat and board the cutter so as to put out the fire and 
bring her back to port. Captain McLellan thought it too 
hazardous and too great a responsibility to send his men on 
board a ship that was burning and had a magazine of powder 
on board. 

There was plenty of time as was afterwards learned, to have 
extinguished the flames before they reached the powder, and 
Captain Trefethen regrets to this day that he had not been 
given permission to go on board the Caleb Cushing and put out 
the fire and bring her safely to port. Captain Reed was placed 
in the county jail for several months and then exchanged as a 
prisoner of war. 

OLD TIME STORIES. 

Dr. Carruthers, a noble old Scotch Congregational minister 
of the Second Parish Church, who during the rebellion aroused 
the people of Portland to great enthusiasm giving his grand 
discourses at the City Hall, urging men to enlist for the Union, 
and there were none that surpassed them, said to me while 
shaving him on his death bed, " Mr. Todd, why don't you 
join the church ? You could do good service in the cause of 
the Master," and he spoke in a manner that I knew it would be 
hard to give him a reply. "There are some men, doctor," I 
said, " who are not so organized as to herd with men. Do you 
recollect, doctor, what Beecher said on one occasion in the 
pulpit, that there were men who seemed to do more good outside 
the church than in it, and then he used one of his grand illus- 
trations : ' Have you not been riding through the country, and 
as you passed orchards full of luscious fruit and you did not 
feel that you had a right to help yourself to them, but soon you 
passed a tree outside of the enclosure that appeared to have 
been placed there by the divine hand for the wayfaring man, 
and you get out of your carriage and help yourself ? ' ' But 
the rector, with his keen Scotch wit, answered : " That may be 
all true, John, but still they are usually crab apples." 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS ]JJ 

The winter of 1839 an d 1840 I spent in Tallahassee, Florida, 
with the exception of a month spent in St. Marks. I was then 
in my nineteenth year. I cooked for thirty men. We had an 
aged colored woman about eighty years of age who did our 
laundry; she took it home. She was not long in finding out 
that I was an Abolitionist, although we were not allowed to 
hint at freedom to a slave. One morning she came in and with 
great fervency of utterance said : " Young man, de Lord told me 
last night that you would live to see the Lord come down from 
the North to free His people." It impressed me very much. 
Her manner was so intense, and she was one of the most devout 
souls I ever met. I said to her, " Why do you think you 
colored people are especially the Lord's people ? " She said, 
"Young man, you are not acquainted wid de Lord; don't you 
know that de Lord's people am de oppressed people de world 
over, because they have no one to look to but de Lord and He 
always hears their cries." I had not read then Bobby Burns 
where he says : 

" The patriot's God peculiarly thou art, 

His friend, inspirer, guardian and reward, 
Oh, never Scotia's isle desert, but may her patriot and patriot's bards 

In bright succession rise, her ornament and guard." 

I did live to see the slaves set free and the old lady's prophecy 
fulfilled. 



A fellow happened into my shop one morning early. He had 
been drinking considerably. He wanted me to give him some 
change to buy some drink. I said, " I don't give men money 
to buy liquor, but I will go with you and buy you some break- 
fast." And he replied : " He who buys meat buys bones ; he 
who buys plums, buys stones ; he who buys eggs, buys shells ; 
and he who buys rum buys nothing else." And I reckon that 
is true as a rule. 



178 ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS 

A few years ago in Scarboro there was a young gentleman 
ordained to the ministry ; leaving town the next day (this was 
many years ago) riding horseback, an old lady stepped out in 
front of him and said : " Are you the young man that was cru- 
cified yesterday — executed, I mean." He said, " Ordained, 
you mean." " All one," the old lady said. In after years the 
young man said the old lady was not far from right. 



I met a literary man the other day who said: "Now, Todd, 
keep on with your book for in two or three hundred years 
hence it will be sought after more than any book that Portland 
will have, for the descendants of these men you are writing 
about will read it with great pleasure to know what their 
ancestors said to their barber." I added, "Do I understand 
you to mean that it won't be read until two or three hundred 
years hence ? You must have read what Macauley said of 
Pilgrim's Progress. He said the cottagers of England, Scotland 
and Ireland read it with delight for two hundred years ; at last 
the literati took it up after two hundred years, and behold, the 
greatest allegory ever written." 



There was a poor, illiterate girl in Scarboro (it was many 
years ago) who had heard the Scriptures often quoted. She 
attended a great revival and was converted and wishing to 
appear well-informed, she attempted to quote Scripture, saying 
her God went through the earth like a roaring lion seeking 
whom he might devour ; she thanked his Holy Name that she 
had found the pearl of great price and he had taken her feet 
from the pit of miry clay and placed her on a rock edgeways. 



Who can give a definition of absent-mindedness ? 
When I was a young man, I had an errand to do out in Libby's 
Corner. Captain Osgood, who was president of the Canal 



ANECDOTES AND CONVERSATIONS I jq 

Bank and whose horse was usually standing at the bank door, 
told me whenever I wanted to borrow his horse to let him know 
and I could have it. I thought I would borrow it to go and do 
my errand. At that time the railroad went across Portland 
street at grade crossing just above the poor house. I had done 
my errand and was coming back over Portland street. I was 
stooping forward, my arms on my knees, the reins in my hands; 
I saw the engine coming along and the thought flashed across 
my mind — it is on another street. I paid no attention to it 
and in a moment my horse stopped and the engine dashed by ; 
the horse had to cant his head to let the cars pass him, and 
as it passed the engineer hollered, " Are you drunk or crazy or 
a damn fool? " I hollered, "All three." I was as wide awake 
as I ever was in the world. Now, what was that state of 
unconsciousness or absent-mindedness that allowed me to 
imperil my life and my friend's horse and carriage ? What 
could have been the conclusion of public judgment had I been 
killed ? It must have been that it was suicide, for it was in 
plain sight — no obstruction, the engineer ringing his bell as 
hard as he could ring it, and all that saved my life was the per- 
fection of the horse in not fearing or caring for the engine. I 
never mentioned this circumstance, not even to Captain Osgood, 
I was so ashamed of it. 



MISCELLANEOUS 



MISCELLANEOUS. 



In his " journal " Parson Smith makes the following entry : 
"In the year 1725, in June, I came here and found Mr. 
Pierpont, who was chaplain to the army, whose headquarters 
were on this Neck, preaching to the people. There were 
then forty-five families in the whole town, viz. : twenty-seven 
on the Neck, one at New Casco, and seventeen at Purpooduck 
and Spurwink, most of them poor and some of them miserably 
so. They had four or five years before erected a meeting- 
house, which they had only covered, and the floor of it con- 
tained the people, with the fishermen and soldiers and other 
strangers that used to frequent the place much." 



FOOTSTEPS OF ANGELS. 

When the hours of day are numbered 

And the voices of the night 
Wake the better soul, that slumbered, 

To a holy, calm delight. 

Ere the evening lamps are lighted, 
And, like phantoms grim and tall, 

Shadows from the fitful firelight 
Dance upon the parlor wall ; 

Then the forms of the departed 

Enter at the open door ; 
The beloved, the true-hearted, 

Come to visit me once more. 

He, the young and strong, who cherished 
Noble longings for the strife, 

By the roadside fell and perished, 
Weary with the march of life ! 



184 MISCELLANEOUS 

They, the holy ones and weakly, 
Who, the cross of suffering bore, 

Folded their pale hands so meekly 
Spoke with us on earth no more ! 

And with them the Being Beauteous, 
Who unto my youth was given 

More than all things else to love me, 
And is now a saint in heaven. 

With a slow and noiseless footstep 
Comes that messenger divine, 

Takes the vacant chair beside me, 
Lays her gentle hand in mine. 

And she sits and gazes at me 

With those deep and tender eyes, 

Like the stars, so still and saint -like, 
Looking downward from the skies. 

Uttered not, yet comprehended, 
Is the spirit's voiceless prayer, 

Soft rebukes, in blessings ended, 
Breathing from her lips of air. 

O, though oft depressed and lonely, 
All my fears are laid aside, 

If I but remember only 

Such as these have lived and died. 

— Longfellow. 



"HALLOWED GROUND." 

What's hallow'd ground ? Has earth a clod 
Its Makers meant not should be trod 
By man, the image of his God 

Erect and free, 
Unscourged by Superstition's rod 

To bow the knee ? 

That's hallow'd ground — where, mourn'd and missed, 
The lips repose our love has kissed; — 



MISCELLANEOUS 1 85 



But where's their memory's mansion ? Is it 

Yon churchyard's bowers ? 
No ! In ourselves their souls exist, 

A part of ours. 

A kiss can consecrate the ground 
Where mated hearts are mutual bound: 
The spot where love's first links were wound. 

That ne'er were riven, 
Is hallow'd down to earth's profound, 

And up to heaven. 

For time makes all but true love old; 
The burning thoughts that then were told 
Run moulten still in memory's mould; 

And will not cool, 
Until the heart itself be cold 

In Lethe's pool. 

What hallows ground where heroes sleep ? 
'Tis not the sculptured piles you heap ! 
In dews that heavens far distant weep 

Their turf may bloom ; 
Or Genii twine beneath the deep 

Their coral tomb : 

But strew his ashes to the wind 

Whose sword or voice has served mankind — 

And is he dead, whose glorious mind 

Lifts thine on high ? — 
To live in hearts we leave behind, 

Is not to die. 

Give that ! and welcome War to brace 

Her drums ! and rend Heaven's reeking space ! 

The colors planted face to face 

The charging cheer. 
Though death's pale horse lead on the chase, 

Shall still be dear. 

And place our trophies where men kneel 
To heaven ! but heaven rebuke my zeal, 
The causes of truth and human weal, 
O God above ! 



1 86 MISCELLANEOUS 

Transfer it from the sword's appeal 
To peace and love. 

Peace, Love ! the Cherubim, that join 
Their spread wings o'er Devotion's shrine, 
Prayers sound in vain, and temples shine, 

Where they are not — 
The heart alone can make divine 

Religion's spot. 

To incantations dost thou trust, 
And pompous rites in domes august ? 
See mouldering stones and metal's rust 

Belie the vaunt, 
That men can bless one pile of dust 

With chime or chaunt. 

The ticking wood -worm mocks thee, man ! 
Thy temple's creeds themselves grow wan ! 
But there's a dome of nobler span, 

A temple given 
Thy faith that bigots dare not ban — 

Its space in Heaven ! 

Its roof star -pictured, Nature's ceiling, 
Where trancing the rapt spirit's feeling. 
And God himself to man revealing, 

The harmonious spheres 
Make music, though unheard their pealing 

By mortal ears. 

Fair stars ! are not your beings pure ? 
Can sin, can death your worlds obscure ? 
Else why so swell the thoughts at your 

Aspect above ? 
Ye must be heavens that makes us sure 

Of heavenly love ! 

And in your harmony sublime 
I read the doom of distant time; 
That man regenerate soul from crime 

Shall yet be drawn. 
And reason on his mortal clime 

Immortal dawn. 



MISCELLANEOUS 1 87 

Is't death to fall for Freedom's right ? 
He's dead alone that lacks her light ! 
And murder sullies in Heaven's sight. 

The sword he draws ; — 
What can alone ennoble fight ? 

A noble cause ! 

What's hallow'd ground ? 'Tis what gives birth 
To sacred thoughts in souls of worth ! — 
Peace ! Independence ! Truth ! go forth 

Earth's compass round; 
And your high priesthood shall make earth 

All hallow'd ground. 

— Campbell. 



E. H. CHAPJN. 

One day the Rev. C. R. Moore, the pastor of the Universalist 
Church that stood at the corner of Congress and Pearl streets 
before the fire, and with him was E. H. Chapin, D. D., of New 
York, the foremost preacher the Universalist Church had in the 
country at that time, 1856. Mr. Moore introduced me to him. 
The doctor, with that manly, lifting-up power that great and 
good men always possess, took, me by the hand and said, 
" Brother Moore tells me you are the most spiritually alive man 
he preaches to. I want you to give me your creed in the most 
brief sentence you can, for I want a text and I often get one 
from the laymen, and if yours suits me I will preach from it 
when I get back to New York." 

I said: "You shall have it, doctor. 'The true life is the 
eternal life, because truth is eternal.' " 

" Moore, he has it in a nut shell ; I shall use it on my return 
to New York." 



1 88 MISCELLANEOUS 

THE HEAVENLY SYMBOLS. 

O God, what symbols dost thou give 
To such as near to nature live ! 

Thou show'st to such life's soul-desire 
In wildly heaven -ascending fire. 

And of time's passing they must dream 
While sitting by the rushing stream. 

In starry circles they can guess 
The mystery of endlessness. 

Thou singest in the sounding sea 
Thy all-pervading harmony. 

Dost in the sun's unceasing light 

Show truth for our weak eyes too bright ; 

Dost in the midnight heavens keep 
The symbol of Thy secret deep. 

— -J. P. Harrington. 



WHO ARE CHRISTIANS? 

If Christianity is an intellectual statement — a form of belief, 
a kind of creed, a theory of any sort which must be accepted — 
then those who do not accept such creed or theory are not 
Christians. But if Christianity is not creed, but character, not 
a theory but a life, then it would seem that those who follow the 
teachings of Christ, with a theory or without one, are entitled 
to be called Christians. — Bradford Leavitt. 

I have often wondered, while listening to sermons on salva- 
tion by faith, how it happened that, in the great parable of the 
final judgment, when all mankind will be called upon to receive 
their final doom — in that wonderful parable there was nothing 
said about salvation by faith. There was an opportunity to 
forever settle the question, and, to my mind, it was settled. 
For the King did not say, in Matt. 25 : 41, Depart from me, 



MISCELLANEOUS 1 89 

because you did not believe, or because you did not believe in 
Jesus, or in the Bible, or vicarious atonement, or any form of 
worship. But He did say, in Matt. 25 : 34, "Come, ye blessed 
of my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you." Why ? 
"Because I was in prison, and hungry," etc. Read it, for you 
will find it all there, where the rewards and punishments are all 
based upon how we have performed our moral obligations to 
our fellow men. But far be it from me to say one word against 
faith. I am a man of faith, but let us understand what faith is 
and its proper use. Faith is an inspiring power. It is what 
the steam is to the ship, and if it does not impel us into the 
haven of good works, our faith is vain. Shew me thy faith 
without thy works, and I will shew thee my faith by my works. 
James 2:18. The faith spoken of here is not a faith in dogmas 
and creeds, but in truth and righteousness and in God, who 
presides over the realm of truth and justice, and sees to it that 
the wicked shall not go unpunished, Prov. 11 : 21 ; Who will 
not justify the wicked, Exod. 23 : 7 ; And promises sure pun- 
ishment and wars upon the wicked, as set forth in Isaiah 3:11, 
also in Prov. 11:21. 

Some say there may not be such a thing as sin in the world 
as understood by us, our vision is so short, our knowledge so 
limited, "with just enough of learning to misquote." Perhaps 
that which we call sin, in our short-sightedness, may, in the 
comprehensive view of the Infinite, be but a discord in the 
great anthem of creation. 

RELIGION. 

Tell — what is this that holds such sway 
O'er cultured minds this latter day ? 
Religion ? It is but a bane 
If superstitions never wane. 

You men of letters and of heart, 
Can you present true Nature's part 
When bound in thought by any creed ? 
And are you free from fault or greed ? 



I9O MISCELLANEOUS 

Then, what is this man calls religion ? 
O, fools of men, your name is legion ! 
Exclude ye men of noble thought — 
The men whose wisdom is God taught? 

" Judge not lest ye be judged," it reads. 
We do not judge your rules and creeds; 
But we do claim the right to stand 
For wisdom's truth in God's broad land. 

— Mary Emerson. 

SHAKER TESTIMONY. 

I think the Shakers' have the true conception of the teaching 
of Jesus of Nazareth, I don't wish to be understood that your 
understanding of the Shaker doctrine is the teaching of Jesus 
by any means, for I had learned years ago that too often our 
opinions are formed and based upon one half ignorance and the 
other half prejudice. Years long past, I found out that our 
opinions are worth in proportion to the knowledge we have 
upon the subject we are talking about. And I have also found 
out that those who know the least are generally the most certain, 
they know all about it. The know-it-alls are the most disagree- 
able people we meet. 

For many years I have been acquainted with the elders of 
the Shaker societies, Brother Wentworth, Brother Otis Sawyer 
of the New Gloucester family at Sabbathday Lake and that prince 
of great men, Elder John Vance of the Alfred family, and more 
recently Brother William Dumont of the New Gloucester family, 
and Brother Green of Alfred. I have learned much from them, 
both spiritually and intellectually ; also from the books I have had 
from them. Now don't hold up your hands in holy horror in 
regard to what I have written about the Shakers, neither be 
frightened in regard to the belief. The greatest objection to 
this belief, you say, is : " They don't believe in marriage nor in 
private ownership of property." There is where you make a 
mistake for they believe in both, for those who want them. But 




ELDER JOHN B. VANCE 



Of the j'Shaker Community, Alfred, Maine. 



MISCELLANEOUS I9I 

those who have been redeemed from the curse of the law, by 
the truth of the gospel, and have been baptised by the Christ 
spirit and have become children of the resurrection in the 
present tense, for they don't need either ; neither do they want 
them, for they are no longer bound down to the Adamic plane 
and the command to multiply and replenish the earth. But 
don't have any fear, I have none, that the world will become 
depopulated. Judging by what I see on every hand there are, 
and will be for a long time plenty of old Adam's followers left 
to keep the world inhabited, and a hard crowd at that to keep 
not withstanding the Shakers. 

On one occasion when talking with Elder Vance, one of the 
best and greatest men I ever met, I said, " it appears to me 
that it would be in accordance with the Divine method that 
when men had arrived at the highest and best, both spiritually, 
morally and physically, it would be the most proper time to 
beget offspring, so they could impart the highest and best 
qualities of their natures to their children." His reply was : "It 
is quite reasonable to think so, and my reply is, He lived our 
example. Follow Him, for He is said to live the true life which 
is the eternal life. He did not marry." 

I will give you a faint idea of the doctrine of the Shakers' 
belief. 

Shakerism presents a system of faith and a mode of life, 
which, during the past century, has solved social and religious 
problems and successfully established practical brotherhoods of 
industry, besides freeing women from inequality and injustice. 
To this there must be added that it has banished from its 
precincts monopoly, immorality, intemperance and crime, by 
creating a life of purity, social freedom and altruistic industry. 
A system that has rendered such a service to mankind merits 
attention from all thoughtful people, whatever may be their 
position in life. 

That the Shakers, through the teachings of their faith, have 
wrought a practical solution of many social enigmas of the time, 
is admitted. It now remains to fit the principles embodied in 
its faith to the needs of the great world. 



192 MISCELLANEOUS 

For a better understanding of their work and its meaning, 
this message, embodying the thought and work of many Shakers, 
is sent forth. 



Mount Lebanon, N. Y., June 28, 1904. 
The Mission and Testimony of the Shakers of the Twentieth 
Century to the World. 

It is the mission of the reaper. 

Are the fields white for the harvest? Jesus thought they 
were in His day. 

The sharp sickle in the hands of the reaper is to cut souls 
from the generative and garner them into the spiritual. 

That was the mission of Jesus, — to teach a higher life than 
the generative to the few who were able to live that higher life. 
His words were : " All cannot receive the saying. He that can 
receive it, let him receive it." And His meaning was, — let him 
subdue that animal nature into which the spirit of evil, an 
enemy has sown tares. 

"If any man will come after me, let him deny himself and 
take up his cross and follow me." 

"They that are Christ's have crucified the flesh with the 
affections and lusts." 

" It is a hard saying ; who can hear it? " said the murmuring 
ones. There were those, even in that day, who did receive it, 
willingly and thankfully, who by daily self-denial subdued every 
animal passion, made their spirits beautiful and refined, and 
entered the spirit life purified and redeemed. 

The question is almost always propounded. " If all should 
become Shakers what would become of the world? " 

" Strait is the gate and narrow is the way and few there be 
that find it." So the world is safe, as far forth as the cross of 
Christ is concerned. 

The mission and testimony of the Shakers is as much to 
those living in the marriage relation as to those who have a call 
to live above it. The trumpet speaks in thunder tones to those 



MISCELLANEOUS 1 93 

who would bring forth an offspring to people the world : " Your 
vessels are marred in the potter's hands and must be made 
over by regeneration," were the words of one of the first Shaker 
Elders. 

Every soul that you bring into the world must be born again, 
from the natural into the spiritual, either in this life or the 
next. 

The Shaker testimony is, to-day, and always has been, burn- 
ing hot against the unfruitful works of darkness. And here is 
where the cross of Christ comes in. When the people of the 
world become perfect in their generations, even as Noah was 
perfect in his, what an improvement there will be in the race ? 
What noble and Godlike men an women will become devel- 
oped ! The golden age will then dawn when Christ will bring 
in an everlasting righteousness. 

As Buddha said to the people in his day, " Hear the five 
rules aright." So we would lay before you the Karma of the 
Christian, "Whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also 
reap." 

And to you who are ripened for the harvest we would say, 
"Enter the path." "For," said Buddha, "there spring the 
healing streams, quenching all thirst ! There bloom the immor- 
tal flowers." Forsake the plane of nature and come up into the 
spiritual where Christ is. " They that are Christ's have cruci- 
fied the flesh with its affections and lusts." You that would 
people the world, rise ye above the unfruitful works of dark- 
ness. Take not one unnecessary step to satisfy the cravings 
of a depraved nature. 

The impress of the life you live is stamped upon your feat- 
ures. You carry all your animal desires into the next life. 
There no language is needed, and your thoughts will be open 
before thousands of spirits with whom you will come in contact. 
You will call upon the rocks and the mountains to fall upon 
you to cover you from the pure eyes of the redeemed. Even 
here, our thoughts are plainly seen by both the good and the 
evil spirits who surround us. 



194 MISCELLANEOUS 

"Are not thousands now beholding 
Every action, word and way, 
And our very thoughts unfolding 
In the blaze of endless day." 

Feticide is murder, and can never be tolerated in the light of 
the new heavens and the new earth which God is creating. 
Bring up your children in the nurture and admonition of the 
Lord, for you will be held accountable for the evils you have 
planted in them that may grow and develop. 

Messengers are now abroad in the world who are inspired by 
the Christ. Here we find, in our beloved Sister Sarah Jane 
Farmer, a divinely inspired woman, whom we greet in the full- 
ness of the love of the angels of the New Creation of God. A 
voice comes to us from a teacher and man of God in Russia, 
Count Leo Tolstoi, condemning all those evils that would 
destroy the human race. The trumpet gives no uncertain 
sound. 

You send missionaries .to the far East to teach people there 
your mistakes, when lo, and behold, there are those in those 
countries who could teach the people of the United States a 
better life than is generally lived. The teachings of Jesus and 
the life he lived are a good and sure test for our lives. As said 
the poet Whittier : 

" Thou judgest us ; thy purity 
Doth all our lusts condemn ; 
The love that draws us nearer thee 
Is hot with wrath to them." 



Thus we have given you, in plain words, the testimony of the 
Shakers of the twentieth century to the world. It is what they 
have lived out for more than one hundred and twenty-five 
years. Thousands of them have, by a daily cross, subdued all 
selfishness and every evil passion, and entered the next life 
bright and beautiful spirits. 



MISCELLANEOUS I 95 

Principles that can never be overthrown by the advance of 
science have long been understood in the Shaker Order. 

The Duality of God, Father and Mother, Christ, the Divine 
Spirit emanating from them, able to reach and inspire every 
soul made worthy by good works. Jesus, the perfect man, 
born of noble, human parentage, wholly imbued with the Christ, 
and the Leader into the higher spiritual life. 

Progression after death. The travel of the soul from one 
degree of grace and glory to another throughout the ages of 
eternity. All the souls who have ever passed from this life into 
the world of spirits, must some time enter this progression and 
be saved by the cross, by walking in the straight and narrow 
way Job 28 : 7, "There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and 
which the vulture's eye hath not seen. The lion's whelps hath 
not trodden it, nor the fierce lion passed by it." 

There will be a great work for the heavenly angels and puri- 
fied spirits to do to assist those who are far from God, for all 
those lost ones must be sought out and drawn by love as soon 
as they desire to receive help. 

When the Christ Spirit becomes enthroned in any soul, then 
the work of separation will commence in that soul. The good 
from the evil ; the wheat from the tares ; the sheep from the 
goats. To the good the soul will say, "Come and live and 
grow." To the evil the sentence will be, " Depart from me 
and be destroyed." No compromise with the evil. Jesus 
inspired with the Christ, said, " I am the resurrection and the 
life." Therefore, the fact that one is living the high life that 
Jesus lived, does away with all old forms and ceremonies. 

From a lecture delivered at Greenacre, Eliot, Me., July, 1904, 
by Aurelia G. Mace, of the Shaker Society, Sabbathday Lake, 
Cumberland County, Me. 



I96 MISCELLANEOUS 

THE COMING OF THE LIGHT. 

By Martha J. Anderson. 

[The sweet Shaker singer of Mount Lebanon, N. Y. — Ed.] 

There are mighty forces gathering, 

Round the standard of the right, 
There are myriads appealing 

For the coming of the light, 
To reveal the growing evils 

That are spreading far and wide, 
Threatening to engulf the nations 

In a dark, o'erwhelming tide. 

Lo ! amid the great uprising, 

Like the surging of the sea, 
There are mighty forces working 

To uplift humanity ; 
Swelling waves of revolution, 

Borne upon the tide of thought, 
Are precursors of the triumph 

Truth and justice have outwrought. 

Sons and daughters of the spirit 

Filled with inspirations power, 
Speak the words of truth prophetic 

That shall meet the present hour; 
And the people mass for freedom, 

Great as Israel's serried host, 
For the King of Glory cometh 

Bringing judgment to earth's coast. 

Be ye lifted up, ye everlasting gates, 
Let the King of Glory enter in ! 

For He cometh, even now, 

With the light upon His brow, 
To redeem the world from sin. 



MISCELLANEOUS 1 97 



THERE'S A NOBLER SIDE TO HUMANITY. 

All that a man hath will he give for his life," is the Scriptural 
equivalent of that other saying, that " Self-preservation is the 
first great law." From the purely animal standpoint these 
statements are quite true. Every living thing clings to its life. 
From the moth to man the first great law seems to be, " Self 
first." All of which is exceedingly well ; for without this instinct 
for life, this shrinking from death, all forms of existence would 
be in perpetual jeopardy. In order that there should be no 
such jeopardy Nature thunders forth to every creature the 
mighty command, " Live ! Live ! Live ! " 

Throughout the universal animaldom this command is heard 
and obeyed, absolutely, unswervingly. But man is more than 
an animal. Under the crust of his animalism throbs the heart 
of a god, and in the supreme moments of his mortal career he 
breaks away from his selfishness, forgets all about the little and 
the mean, and by his heroism rises to the heights of the divine ! 
This nobler side of our humanity has received several illustra- 
tions of late in the shape of the men and women, and even the 
little boys and girls, who have freely and cheerfully endangered 
their lives to save others from death ; who in certain instances 
died, bravely and without a murmur, that others might live. It 
was the good in them, the divine down under the animal, that 
caused them to fling the thought of self like a rock into the sea, 
while they dedicated themselves to the immediate and all- 
absorbing task of rescuing those who were in danger of destruc- 
tion. The "first great law," that of self-preservation, they 
scorned to consider, and in the spirit of Him who came to 
"seek and to save the lost," they went forth to do their duty — 
regardless of consequences. 

So long as such noble spirit is found among us it will be 
possible to cherish the hope that the Master was right when 
He called us the "children of God," rather than, as some are 
inclined to call us these days, the "children of the slime." It 



I98 MISCELLANEOUS 

is difficult, if not quite impossible, to demonstrate the inherent 
greatness and nobility of our humanity by a cold-blooded argu- 
ment; but the simplest act of self-sacrifice goes a long way 
toward proving that there is something or other mixed up with 
our frailty and meanness that came from a higher source than 
that of the primeval mind. 

I recently read, or rather re-read, Mr. Grote's great chapter 
on the first clash between the little handful of Greeks and the 
mighty hosts of Persia at Thermopylae, and as the cold type so 
eloquently told the grand old story I felt to myself as never 
before : " The spirit of Leonidas and his three hundred was 
born not of mud, not even of 'protoplasm,' but of the Eternal 
Soul of things to which we give the name of God." 

The pessimist cannot be answered by the syllogism, for life 
is deeper than dialectics ; but unless one happens to be thor- 
oughly animalized he cannot help seeing that in the sublime 
instances which history affords of man's devotion to principle, 
even when such devotion involves the extinction of his little 
finite life, we have the evidence of the presence within him of a 
larger and grander nature than appears on the lower levels of 
his average existence. — Rev. Thomas B. Gregory. 



THERE'S GLORY IN LIFE'S STRUGGLE. 

The young man who, in a fit of the blues the other day threw 
himself into the river did not realize what he was missing. 

There is no game so thrillingly interesting as the game of 
life, and the man who has the chance to play it and refuses to 
do so deprives himself of the keenest pleasure conceivable. 

It has been said a thousand times that "life is a battle." 

Ay, it is! — and there is where the glory and joy of the 
business comes in ! 

Life is a battle and to stand in the battleline and fight, never 



MISCELLANEOUS 1 99 

despairing, never showing the white feather, with courage 
undaunted, holding the face toward the enemy until its lines are 
broken and victory sits upon your standard — that is where the 
true grandeur and blessedness of existence are found! 

Someone once said: "Life is like a game of whist; I am 
not particularly fond of it, but since the cards have been placed 
in my hand I am going to play them for all they are worth." 

That is the spirit to have in one's breast ! That is the spirit 
that wins victories and keeps the world a-moving up grade. 

No matter what the theories may happen to be concerning 
the existence in the midst of which you find yourselves, it is 
your privilege, if you will have it so, to get a whole lot of solid 
comfort out of the affair. To struggle, and through the strug- 
gling to grow strong, and in the strength to win the prize for 
which you are striving, is there any intoxication to be compared 
with that, any pleasure or joy that is worthy of being com- 
pared with it ? 

What if there are troubles, what if there are difficulties in the 
way, what if the skies are dark? — bring your teeth together, 
knit your brows, screw your courage up, and pitch in! The 
bigger the trouble, the more stubborn the difficulties, the darker 
the clouds that hang over your head, the more firmly you 
should resolve to press on. You may be defeated, but you are 
not defeated yet, and still there is room for victory. And in 
that thought of victory there is enthusiasm enough to hold one 
up in the darkest and most trying hour. 

Readers of this article will remember the words of Paul Jones 
to the English captain who called out to him to know if he had 
surrendered: "Surrendered, hell! I have just begun to 
fight ! " We ought to go into the business of living as Paul Jones 
went into his fight with the Serapis — to live, not to die; to win, 
not to lose. 

There was not a moment during that terrible struggle when 
Paul Jones felt like giving up the fight. Let the spirit of the 
" Father of the American Navy" be in the breast of every young 
man who reads this article. — Rev. Thomas B. Gregory. 



200 MISCELLANEOUS 



"WHAT THINK YE OF CHRIST?" 

A railroad president, whose name I do not feel justified in 
publishing without first having asked for his consent, writes as 
follows : 

"If it is not asking too much, will you permit me to request, 
in the pure interest of truth, that you answer, editorially, the 
following questions : 

Are you a minister of the Gospel ? 

Do you fully believe in Christ and his teachings ? 

Please give a brief statement of the purposes, teachings and 
mission of Jesus Christ." 

In answer to the first question, I would say that I am a 
" regularly ordained minister of the Gospel." At least I have 
a document, duly signed and sealed, which says that I am. I 
am not prepared to say whether or not I am in direct "Apos- 
tolical Succession." I have an idea, however, that my "succes- 
sion " is good enough for all practical purposes. 

To the second question, I would reply that I fully believe in 
Christ and in His teachings — as it is given me to understand 
Christ and His teachings. 

But who was Christ and what did He stand for ? 

Primarily He stood for the spiritual, as opposed to the strictly 
animal, side of life. Without being in any sense of the word an 
ascetic, He mainly lived for love and purity. For the things 
that absorb most men's attention, houses and lands, money and 
the things that money will buy, He cared but little. His world 
was the inner one of head and heart. In the outside world and 
its passing show He took but a slender interest. 

It was humanity that Jesus loved, first, last and all the time, 
and all that harmed humanity or retarded its progress along the 
better way He hated with all His soul. He believed in the 
infinite perfectibility of mankind, and was, on that account, 



MISCELLANEOUS 201 

deeply interested in the lowest and vilest of the race, since He 
saw in them the possibility of the finest moral and spiritual 
manhood. His whole creed — in so far as he may be said to 
have had any creed at all — was summed up in the immortal 
sixth beatitude : " Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall 
see God." To the pure in heart, He declared, belong all the 
recorded benefits of Heaven and earth — for Heaven, He told 
men over and over, is not far away in time and space, but very 
close by, even within the mind and heart of those who live for 
purity and love. 

Above everything else, He wanted men to understand that 
they were rich not in proportion to what they had in their jewel 
cases and wardrobes and barns and banks, but in proportion to 
what they had in their hearts and souls. The only wealth He 
knew anything about or cared anything for was the wealth of 
character, the joy of loving one another, of doing one another 
good. 

Such, in brief, was Jesus, the Man and Teacher. He was 
everybody's friend. Hating no one, He was especially happy 
when reaching out a hand to the sick and the sorrowing, the 
needy and the oppressed. He excoriated the rich, not because 
they were rich, but because in their pride of fortune they 
despised and oppressed the poor. He wanted all men to feel 
that they were brothers, and that at the basis of all human 
dealings should lie the principle of the Golden Rule. Born 
and bred a Jew, He was not lacking in zeal for the faith of His 
fathers ; but because He loved humanity He became indignant 
at the mummeries that were being enacted at Israel's capital, 
and that indignation He was not backward about voicing. The 
Jerusalem machine was not only indifferent, but positively 
antagonistic, to the humanity He loved and was trying to help, 
and He attacked it and was crushed. But His immortal Idea 
could not be crushed. His beautiful Spirit was beyond the 
power of man to harm — and to-day that Idea and that Spirit 
are making every throne of iniquity shake and every tribunal of 
injustice tremble !• — Rev. Thomas B. Gregory. 



202 MISCELLANEOUS 



OH, YES, THE MILLIONAIRES DO LAUGH. 

Carnegie has said that millionaires do not laugh. The news- 
papers take it up and it goes the rounds the usual way. But 
millionaires do laugh, not in public, but in their quiet offices, 
when they consider the amusing features of modern life and 
the docility of the masses — sometimes spelled, them asses. 

When Mr. Rockefeller realizes that he can defy all the legal 
forces of the United States and simultaneously add to the living 
expenses of every family in the United States, by his personal 
order, he laughs. The other day, when he arbitrarily increased 
the price of gasoline and then read the humble statement of the 
president of the Automobile Club, " I suppose we must pay," 
John D. Rockefeller laughed. 

When the coal owners want more money and add half a 
dollar or a dollar per ton to the price, they laugh. When the 
Steel Trust manager makes the American people pay twice as 
much for steel rails in this country as he charges abroad, he 
laughs. When the head of the Agricultural Implement Trust 
remembers that he owes everything he has to the American 
farmer, American inventive talent, and then makes the Ameri- 
can farmer pay twice as much for a plow or a reaper as he 
charges for the same thing in Russia or South America, he 
laughs. 

When the man with an income of $25,000,000 realizes that 
the Supreme Court forbids the people to tax that income, and 
when he sees a man with ten children paying taxes on his little 
home, do you wonder that the millionaire laughs ? He laughs 
in bitter cynicism and contempt at the people so little able to 
protect themselves. 

The head of the- Beef Trust who commits a crime against 
children and mothers and is fined a wretched five hundred 
dollars laughs as he sees a man who steals a ham sent to prison 
for five years. 



MISCELLANEOUS 203 

The millionaire who, for his amusement and profit, maintains 
a race track, where thieves are manufactured wholesale, laughs 
when he sees a poorer man arrested for playing a game of cards 
in a saloon. How can he help laughing, when he realizes that 
the laws are arranged not only to grant him exemption, but to 
force the man who would gamble to gamble in his race track 
gambling hell and give him the profits ? 

There is a lot of laughing among the millionaires. They have 
much to laugh at. 

When will the turn of the people come ? When will they 
laugh ? — The Boston American. 



ASSES. 



This hemisphere produces two kind of asses. 

The little South American asses, when attacked by an enemy, 
form a circle with their heads together and their heels out, and 
thus protect themselves by kicking. 

The great North American asses — known as voters and tax- 
payers— w f hen attacked by an enemy composed of genteel, 
legalized robbers, form in two lines, heels towards each other. 
One line is branded " Democratic " and the other " Republican." 
At the word "go" from their political master they eternally 
kick the stuffing out of each other. 

When the battle is over the victorious kickers rend the air 
with vociferous brays, while the masters divide the spoils and 
the offices. 

This is the difference between the little South American ass, 
in uncivilized condition, and the great North American ass, in 
a civilized condition. 



204 MISCELLANEOUS 



AMERICAN ARISTOCRACY. 

Of all the notable things on earth, 
The queerest one is the pride of birth, 

Among our fierce " Democracy ! " 
A bridge across a hundred years, 
With a prop to save it from sneers, 
Not even a couple of rotten Peers. 
A thing for laughter, fleers, and jeers, 

Is American aristocracy. 

" Depend upon it my noblest friend, 
Your family thread you can't ascend, 
Without good reason to apprehend 
You may find it waxed at the farther end 

By some plebeian vocation ! 
Or, worse than that, your wasted line 
May end in a loop of stronger twine 

That plagued some worthy relation. 

" Because you flourish in worldly affairs, 
Don't be haughty and put on airs, 

With insolent pride of station ! 
Don't be proud and turn up your nose 
At poorer people with plainer clothes, 
But learn, for the sake of your mind's repose, 
That wealth's a bauble that comes and goes, 
And that proud flesh, wherever it grows, 

Is subject to irritation." 

— J. G. Saxe. 



AXIOMS— SHARP POiNTS. 

A man that will not reason is a bigot ; a man that cannot 
reason is a fool ; and a man that dare not reason is a slave. 

Be such a man, live such a life, that if every man were such 
as you, and every life a life like yours, this earth would be a 
paradise. — Phillips Brooks. 



MISCELLANEOUS 205 

Thus, born alike, from virtue first began 
That difference that distinquish'd man from man : 
He claimed not title from descent of blood ; 
But that which made him noble, made him good. 

— Dry den. 

The true secret of living at peace with all the world is to have 
a humble opinion of yourselves. 

People who do wrong seldom have any difficulty in finding 
excuses and justification for it. 

Give to the world the best we have, for it is noble to be good. 
Kind hearts are more to us than coronets, and simple faith than 
Norman blood. Do for the world the best we can and the 
best will come back to us. 

The only wages never reduced — the wages of sin. 

Ignorance has no light ; error follows a false one. 

Some people look at everything, yet really see nothing. 

There is no grief like the grief that does not speak. 

He who chatters to no purpose climbs a tree to catch fish. 

He who takes advice is sometimes superior to the giver. 

It is better to need relief than to want the heart to give it. 

Those who know the least of others, think the most of them- 
selves. 

The greatest truths are the simplest ; and so are the greatest 
men. 

Cast your nets in the right water, and they may take fish 
while you are sleeping. 

A woman fascinates us quite as often by what she overlooks, 
as by what she says. 

In character, in manners, in style, in all things the supreme 
excellence is simplicity. 



206 MISCELLANEOUS 

It is only the truly virtuous man who can love, or who can 
hate, others. — Confucius. 

The hill has not yet lifted its face to heaven that perseverance 
will not gain the summit of at last. — Dickens. 

When a man is opposed to Christianity, it is because Chris- 
tianity is opposed to him. — Bishop Hall. 

Every man has in himself a continent of undiscovered 
character. Happy is he who acts the Columbus to his own 
soul. — Sir I. Stephens. 

Tyranny can make liars and cheats out of the most honest 
souls. It is done oftener than anyone, except close students 
of human nature, realize. — Helen Hunt Jackson. 

" My will, not thine, be done," turned Paradise into a desert. 
" Thy will, not mine, be done," turned the desert into a Paradise 
and made Gethsemane the gate of Heaven. — Pressense. 

If every man's internal care 

Were written on his brow, 
How many would our pity share 

Who raise our envy now ! 

— Metastasio. 

Educate a man's intellect only and he becomes an infidel, 
educate his heart and he becomes a fanatic; educate both 
together and he becomes the noblest work of God.— Rev. T. 
De Witt Talmage. 

Time should not be allowed to pass without yielding fruits, 
in the form of something learnt worthy of being known, some 
good principle cultivated or some good habit strengthened. — 
Smiles. 

If you would hit the mark, you must aim a little above it ; 
Every arrow that flies feels the attraction of earth. 

— Longfellow. 

The printing press is the evil genius of tyrants. 
Honest doubt is a prince beside blind belief. 



MISCELLANEOUS 207 

Knowledge creates free men ; a blind belief, slaves. 

Our wonder is always in proportion to our ignorance. 

Men who dare not assert their rights deserve to be slaves. 

The purpose of a man's life stamps his face with its own 
nobility or ignominy. 

Courage to face the vicissitudes of active life is better than 
wealth to shelter us from them. 

Laws cannot confer rights upon the citizen. His rights are 
inherent, and the best of laws can only protect him in their 
exercise. 

A man may care very little as to how his money goes, but 
there are times when he would give a good deal to know where 
it is coming from. 

RECREATION. 

The teacher of a public school corrected a pupil's composi- 
tion, substituting "who " for "that" in the sentence, " The man 
that lies does wrong." The boy appealed to the principal, who 
indorsed on the paper, " I've come to the conclusion, for all 
that, that that that that that boy used was correct." 

" Have ye anny ancisters, Mrs. Kelly? " asked Mrs. O'Brien. 

" An' what's ancisters ? " 

"Why, people you shprung from." 

"Listen to me, Mrs. O'Brien," said Mrs. Kelly, impressively. 
" I come from the rale stock of Donahues, thot shpring from 
nobody. They shpring at thim ! " — London Tid-Bits. 

" There is no use trying to please people," said Mr. Dustin 
Stax. 

" What is the trouble ? " 

"If you don't contribute to campaign funds they say you're 
parsimonious, and if you do they say you're corrupt." — Wash- 
ington Star. 



208 MISCELLANEOUS 

Tommy — Pop, what is fret-work ? 

Tommy's Pop — Wrinkles, my son. — Philadelphia Record. 

A little boy attended church one Sunday morning, and upon 
his return his mother asked him if he could repeat the text. 
He said he could ; and this was the way he remembered it : 
" Don't be afraid and I'll bring back the quilt." The mother 
said that could not be it, but the child insisted. Upon meeting 
the clergyman some days later, she inquired of him as to the 
text. He replied: "Be not afraid. I will return and bring 
you a comforter." 

A fine specimen of the Taurus Hibernicus made its appear- 
ance in the Bow Street Police Court yesterday. " You ducked 
your head," said the magistrate to Patrick Lane, who charged 
Joseph Kavanagh with shooting at him in the Strand. " Faith, 
and I did, your worship. It's better to be a coward for five 
minutes than to be dead all your life-time." — London Globe. 

When I went out speaking, fearing that I might not give the 
hearers sufficient information to reward them for their time, I 
would give them these axioms (not original) : — 

"Let us ponder boldly. 'Tis a base abandonment of reason 
to resign our right of thought, our last and only place of refuge, 
at least it shall be mine." 

" There is no mystery but ignorance, and ignorance alone 
enslaves." 

"He who has never changed an opinion has forsaken none 
of his errors." 

"Truth never shuns the light; asks no shield; seeks no 
panoply, courts inquiry, answers every honest question, and 
like its great Divine Author, loveliest when unrobed." 



MISCELLANEOUS 209 



SPEAK GENTLY TO THE ERRING. 

" Speak gently to the erring one 

For, O ! ye may not know 
The untold weight of suffering 

That bows his spirit low. 

" A kind and gentle word to him, — 

May call all back again, — 
The pleasant dreams of early youth 

Ere the light of life was dim. 

" Harsh words may be the only ones 

His ear hath ever heard ; 
Then like an angel's loving voice 

Will sound your gentle word. 

" In joyous hours, with friends around, 
Rich with the love they give, 

You hear of wicked deeds and say, 
He is not fit to live. 

" But only think, if yours had been 

Like his, a cheerless life 
Yours perchance, might then have been 

Like his, as full of strife. 

" There's seldom found a heart so hard 

But love may enter in ; 
And love hath ever magic power 

To chase away all sin. 

" Spare not those gentle words, that bring 

The erring unto God, 
To learn that life is beautiful, 

When spent in doing good." 



TO WIFE AND DAUGHTER. 

" Soon my task will be completed, 
Soon your footsteps I shall follow 
To the land of the blessed, 
To the kingdom of the Ponemah, 
To the land of the hereafter ! " 



2IO MISCELLANEOUS 



BY THE GREEN MOUNTAIN BARD. 

There have been noble men, whose highest, holiest thoughts 
Were born in solitude. 

Alone in some vast wilderness they wandered forth 
And there communed with nature, until 
Its inspiration roused the slumbering soul, 
And from its depths brought forth some glorious vision, 
Fairer than earth's creation, which in a higher world 
Shall yet be realized. For what the soul creates 
To the soul's realm belongs, and never can be more 
Than dimly shadowed forth on earth, where 
Skillful hands are ever ready to embody in external things 
Its high imaginings. And such are they 
For whom the earth hath no companionship. 
They mingle with the world, but are not of it. With hearts 
All formed for sympathy and filled with highest love. 
They stand alone. Alone ! because inflexible in truth and virtue 
Alone ! because the inward Voice can never yield 
Its sense of right to the great world's applause. 
Alone! because the clamorous multitude will never grant 
The meed of praise to virtues not their own. 
And yet not all alone. For ever to the heart thus throned 
In solitude kind spirits minister, outpouring high 
And glorious thoughts, and kindling sweet emotions in the soul, 
Until it revels in the light of heaven, and slakes its thirst 
In its undying founts, whose crystal waters reflect back the light of truth 
and wisdom. 



WOE TO THE LAND. 

Woe ! woe to the land, when the people are blinded 
By wealth's golden glitter and capital's smile ; 

Forgetting their sires who were patriot minded, 
Honest, noble and true, without blemish or guile. 

Could gold buy a freeman, when war dogs are howling 

Around our Republic in battle array ? 
Could office seduce when the lion was growling 

With teeth ready whetted to seize on his prey ? 



MISCELLANEOUS 211 

Then, men manned the ramparts with vigilant glances, 
When Arnold and Andre were brought to a stand, 

In the thick of the fight, with their gun-stocks for lances, 
For justice and right, stood these patriots grand. 

Could gold then decoy, or Once bribe them to waver ? 

Could flattery soothe them, or royalty daze ? 
Though tracked by their blood o'er each hard -frozen river, 

This phalanx of liberty had but one knave. 

Oh ! blest shades of Washington, Lincoln and others, 

Look down from your bowers of Eden above, 
Unite our loved States as one grand band of brothers, 

And spread over all your rich mantle of love. 

Destroy the foul schemes, foreign intrigue are weaving 

By gold and monopolies, o'er our loved land; 
Fill with joy the lone homesteads of labor now weeping 

For God and our Country, let each firmly stand. 



GIFTS. 

"Oh, World -God, give me Wealth! " the Egyptian cried. 

His prayer was granted. High as heaven, behold 

Palace and pyramid ; the brimming tide 

Of lavish Nile washed all his land with gold. 

Armies of slaves toiled ant -wise at his feet, 

World -circling traffic rolled through mart and street. 

His priests were gods, his spice -balmed kings enshrined, 

Set death at naught in rock-ribbed charnels deep. 

Seek Pharaoh's race to-day and ye shall find 

Rust and the moth, silence and dusty sleep. 

" Oh, World-God, give me Beauty ! " cried the Greek. 

His prayer was granted. All the earth became 

Plastic and vocal to his sense ; each peak, 

Each grove, each stream, quick with Promethean flame, 

Peopled the world with imaged grace and light. 

The lyre was his, and his the breathing might 

Of the immortal marble, his the play 

Of diamond -pointed thought and golden tongue. 

Go seek the sunshine-race, ye find to-day 

A broken column and a lute unstrung. 



2 12 MISCELLANEOUS 

" Oh, World -God, give me Power! " the Roman cried. 

His prayer was granted. The vast world was chained 

A captive to the chariot of his pride. 

The blood of myriad provinces was drained 

To feed that fierce, insatiable red heart. 

Invulnerably bulwarked every part 

With serried legions and with close-meshed Code. 

Within, the burrowing worm had gnawed its home. 

A roofless ruin stands where once abode 

The imperial race of everlasting Rome. 

" Oh, Godhead, give truth ! " the Hebrew cried. 

His prayer was granted ; he became the slave 

Of the Idea, a pilgrim far and wide, 

Cursed, hated, spurned, and scourged with none to save. 

The Pharaohs knew him, and when Greece beheld, 

His wisdom wore the hoary crown of Eld. 

Beauty he hath forsworn and wealth and power. 

Seek him to-day, and find in every land. 

No fire consumes him, neither floods devour, 

Immortal through the lamp within his hand. 

— Emma Lazarus. 

THREE LESSONS. 

There are three lessons I would write, 
Three words as with a golden pen, 

In tracings of eternal light 
Upon the hearts of men. 

Have Hope ! Though clouds environ round, 
And gladness hides her face in scorn, 

Put thou the shadow from thy brow ; 
No night but hath its morn. 

Have Faith ! Where'er thy bark is driven, 
The calm's disport, the tempest mirth, 

Know this : God rules the hosts of heaven, 
The inhabitants of earth ! 

Have Love ! Not love alone for one, 
But man as man thy brother call ; 

And scatter, like the circling sun, 
Thy charities on all. 



MISCELLANEOUS 

Thus grave those words upon thy soul, 

Hope, Faith, and Love ; and thou shalt find 

Strength when life -surges maddest roll, 
Light when thou else wert blind. 

— Schiller. 



TIMIDITY— A HINDU FABLE. 



A silly mouse, thinking each thing a cat, 
Fell into helpless worriment thereat ; 

But, noticed by a wizard living near, 
Was turned into a cat to end its fear. 

Seeing a dog, who that way did go, 

" Here, be a dog," he said, '• and end your woe." 

But though a dog, its soul found no release, 
For fear some tiger might disturb its peace. 

Into a tiger next the beast was made, 
And still 'twas pitiful and sore afraid, 

Because the huntsman might, some ill-starred day, 
Happen along, and take its life away. 

" Then," said the wizard, turning to his house, 
" You have a mouse's heart — now be a mouse." 

'Tis so with men : no earthly help or dower 
Can add one atom to their native power ; 

Then from their smallness nothing can arouse, 
No art can make a lion from a mouse. 

—Joel Benton. 



2 14 MISCELLANEOUS 

BY A LADY EIGHTY YEARS OLD. 

The Press published a poem written by Mrs. Sarah Tappan 
Todd, mother of John M. Todd of this city, when she was eighty 
years old. 

Mrs. Todd was the mother of ten children, two of whom 
survive, John M. Todd, and Mrs. Joseph Davis. A grandson 
was Col. William Todd McMahon of New York city, who was 
deputy collector of customs for that city for many years and 
was a member of the tariff commission appointed by President 
Arthur. She was a sister of Judge Samuel Tappan of New 
York, also a sister to Josiah Tappan of Brunswick, a cousin of 
Arthur Tappan of New York, a famous abolitionist and a very 
wealthy and generous man. He paid a fine of $10,000 to 
release William Lloyd Garrison from jail in Baltimore. Rev. 
Benjamin Tappan, D. D., and Enoch Tappan, M. D., of 
Augusta were also cousins. 

The poem was originally printed in the Portland Transcript. 
It is as follows : 

OLD GREGORY. 
[Founded on Fact.] 

Said Gregory to a passing friend, 

My splendid house is done, 
It rivals in its costliness 

The temple of the sun. 

It stands a noble monument 

Of architecture rare ; 
The landscape round is beautiful, 

Its gardens passing fair. 

And see, he cried, those gallant ships, 

Like birds upon the sea : 
Those stately ships, with all their wealth, 

Belong, alone to me. 

And see far spread that pasture land, 
And mark the lowing kine, 



MISCELLANEOUS 

That forest of majestic oaks, 
And those green fields are mine. 

Those mills are mine on yonder stream, 
And mine these stores of wheat, 

And mine this stately coach and six, 
And mine that country seat. 

And seest thou, his friend replied, 

That hovel low and poor, 
And there an aged withered dame 

Is spinning at the door. 

Well, she possesses wealth untold, 

A rich, exhaustless mine ; 
Go ask her to exchange her store 

For twice as much as thine. 

What, she ! The astonished Gregory cried, 

It cannot, shall not be ! 
What ! she possess a mine of gold ! 

The land belongs to me. 

With flashing eyes he sternly said, 

This mine I'll soon explore, 
Then lashed his steeds with furious haste, 

And reached the cottage door. 

Woman, what is this boasted prize, 

This hoarded wealth of thine. 
The widow meekly raised her eyes, 

And answered, Christ is mine. 

And Gregory turned with proud disdain 

And viewed the scenery round, 
To-morrow's sun shall see that hut 

Lie level with the ground. 

That eve he quaffed the sparkling wine, 

The hall he lightly trod, 
Next morn he lay a stiffened corpse, 

The rest remains with God. 

—Mrs. Sarah Tappan Todd. 
North Pownal, Oct. 15, 1858. 



2l6 MISCELLANEOUS 



SOMEBODY'S MOTHER. 



The woman was old and ragged and gray, 
And bent with the chill of the winter's day ; 

The street was wet with a recent snow, 
And the woman's feet were aged and slow. 

She stood at the crossing and waited long, 
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng 

Of human beings who passed her by, 
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye. 

Down the street with laughter and shout, 
Glad in the freedom of " school let out," 

Came the boys like a flock of sheep, 
Hailing the snow piled white and deep, 

Past the woman so old and gray, 
Hastened the children on their way, 

Nor offered a helping hand to her, 
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir 

Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet 
Should crowd her down on the slippery street. 

At last came one of the merry troop— 
The gayest laddie of all the group : 

He paused beside her and whispered low, 
" I'll help you across if you wish to go." 

Her aged hand on his strong young arm 
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm, 

He guided the trembling feet along, 
Proud that his own were full and strong. 

Then back again to his friends he went 
His young heart happy and well content. 



MISCELLANEOUS 2 1 7 

" She's somebody's mother, boys, you know, 
For all she's aged, and poor and slow ; 

And I hope some fellow will lend a hand 
To help my mother, you understand, 

If ever she's poor, and old and gray, 
When her own dear boy is far away." 

And " somebody's mother " bowed low her head 
In her home that night, and the prayer she said 

Was, " God be kind to the noble boy, 

Who is somebody's son and pride and joy ! " 

Harper's Weekly. 



WOMAN, WHO CANNOT VOTE, HAS DONE 
THE WORLD'S REAL WORK. 

The would-be wise man, who thinks he believes that woman 
should not vote, will kindly read the following extract from the 
work of a great French historian and deep student : 

" It is to woman, I think, that mankind owes all that has made 
us men. Burdened with the children and the baggage, she 
erected a permanent cover to shelter the little family; the nest 
for her brood was, perhaps, a ditch carpeted with moss ; by the 
side of it she set up a pole, with large leaves laid across ; and, 
when she thought of fastening three or four of these poles 
together by their tops, the hut was invented — the hut, the first 
interior. She laid the firebrand, with which she never parts, 
and the hut became illuminated, the hut was warmed, the hut 
sheltered a hearth * * * 

" Notwithstanding the doctrine which holds sway at present, 
I maintain that woman was the creator of the primordial ele- 
ments of civilization." 

That quotation appears on page forty-eight of the second 
volume of Stuckenberg's " Sociology : The Science of Human 



2l8 MISCELLANEOUS 

Society." This book — published by Putnam — is well worth 
your reading. 

You can get it at your library, or, better still, buy it and own 
it — if you do not object to slightly "heavy " reading. 

Whether you read Stuckenberg or not, think for half an hour 
on the quotation that we publish here. 

Has it ever occurred to you that woman, robbed of the right 
to vote, forbidden to help make the laws that govern her and 
her children, is really the builder of our civilization ? 

Woman was the first agriculturist — and she established the 
first home. She was the first inventor — she invented weaving. 
And we owe to her the knowledge of vegetable foods — the 
development of all our grains from weeds. 

Woman developed language, which, in turn, has developed 
man's mind. 

She put all the children in the world and protected them 
after they got here — while the savage man was hunting his 
fellows or other animals or drowsing in the sun. 

If we amount to anything in this world, we owe that fact to 
woman — and we might, at least, admit it and allow her to help 
us, with her superior intuition and character, in our lawmaking 
and our choosing of public officials. 

Female suffrage will add millions of votes to the moral side, 
the common-sense side, of every election. 

How much longer is this country to wait for it? — Boston 
American Journal. 



" Enthusiast ! dreamer ! such the names 

Thine age bestows on thee, 
For that great nature, going forth 

In world-wide sympathy : 
For the vision clear, the spirit brave, 

The honest heart and warm, 
And the voice which swells the battle cry 

For freedom and reform. 



MISCELLANEOUS 219 

" Yet for thy fearless manliness 

When weak time servers throng, — 
Thy chivalrous defence of right, 

The bold rebuke of wrong, — 
And for the flame of liberty, 

Heaven-kindled in thy breast, 
Which thou hast fed like sacred fire, — 

A blessing on thee rest ! 

" 'Tis said thy spirit knoweth not 

Its time of calm and sleeping ; 
That ever are its restless thoughts 

Like wild waves onward leaping, 
Then may its flashing waters 

Be tranquil evermore, — 
They are troubled by an angel 

Like the sacred pool of yore." 

THE SHIP OF STATE. 

Thou, too, sail on, O Ship of State ! 

Sail on, O Union strong and great ! 

Humanity with all its fears, 

With all the hope of future years, 

Is hanging breathless on thy fate ! 

We know what Master laid the keel, 

What workman wrought thy ribs of steel, 

Who made each mast, and sail, and rope, 

What anvils rang, what hammers beat 

In what a forge, and what a heat 

Were shaped the anchors of the hope ! 

Fear not each sudden sound and shock, 

'Tis of the wave and not the rock ; 

'Tis but the flapping of the sail, 

And not a rent made by the gale ! 

In spite of rock and tempest's roar, 

In spite of false lights on the shore, 

Sail on, nor fear to breast the sea! 

Our hearts, our hopes are all with thee, 

Our hearts, our hopes, our prayers, our tears, 

Our faith triumphant o'er our fear, 

Are all with thee — are all with thee! 

H. IV. Lo7igfellow '. 



2 20 MISCELLANEOUS 



ILL FARES THE LAND. 

" 111 fares the land to gathering ills a prey 
Where wealth accumulates and men decay. 
Princes and lords may flourish or may fade 
A breath can make them as a breath hath made ; 
But a bold yeomanry their country's pride 
When once destroyed can never be supplied." 

Goldsmith. 



THERE MUST BE SOMETHING WRONG. 



When earth produces free and fair 

The golden waving corn ; 
When fragrant fruits perfume the air 

And fleecy flocks are shorn, 
Whilst thousands move with aching heads, 

And sing the ceaseless song, 
" We starve, we die; O give us bread," 

There must be something wrong. 

When wealth is wrought as seasons roll, 

From off the fruitful soil ; 
When luxury from pole to pole, 

Heaps fruits of human toil ; 
When from a thousand, one alone 

In plenty rolls along, 
And others ne'er a joy have known, 

There must be something wrong. 

When poor men's tables waste away, 

To barrenness and drought, 
There must be something in the way 

That's worth the finding out ; 
While surfeits one great table bends 

While members move along, 
While scarce a crust their board extends, 

There must be something wrong. 



MISCELLANEOUS 22 1 

Then let the law give equal right 

To wealthy and to poor ; 
Let freedom crush the hand of might, 

We ask for nothing more. 
Until this system is begun 

The burden of our song 
Must and can only end — 

There must be something wrong. 



TO "LEATHER FRENCH." 

[Leather French was an old hermit in the town of Exeter, Me.] 

You have haunted the dreams of my sleep, Leather French. 

You have troubled me often and long, 
And so now to give rest to the waves of my soul, 

Leather French, let me sing you a song. 

I suppose that the cold world may sneer, Leather French. 

For they've done it too. often before, 
When the innermost spirit has snatched up its harp 

Just to sing o'er the grave of the poor. 

Never mind, let them laugh, let them sneer, Leather French, 

We will not be disturbed by them long, 
For we'll step out aside from the battle of life, 

While I question and sing you my song. 

You were poor when you lived here below, Leather French, 

And you suffered from hunger and cold, 
And 'twas well you escaped from the storm and the blast, 

At the time you grew weary and old. 

Has that old leather garb that you wore, Leather French, 

That you wore in the days long ago, 
Been exchanged for the robe that you named in your prayer, 

For a robe that is whiter than snow ? 



2 22 MISCELLANEOUS 

And that dreary old hut where you dwelt, Leather French, 

That old hut on the hurricane lands ; 
Was it bartered by you at the passes of death, 

For a house not erected with hands ? 

When the toys that I love become stale, Leather French, 

And my life's fitful fever has passed, 
Shall I safely cross over the Jordan of death, 

Shall I meet you in heaven at last ? 

Tell me true — tell me all — tell me now — Leather French, 

For the tale you can tell me is worth 
More to me than the wisdom, the pleasures, the fame, 

And the riches and honors of earth. 

Shall I meet no response to my call, Leather French, 

Tell me quick, for I cannot wait long, 
For I am summoned again to the battle of life — 

Leather French, I have finished my song. 

— David Barker 



ANNABEL LEE. 

It was many and many a year ago, 

In a kingdom by the sea, 
That a maiden there lived whom you may know 

By the name of Annabel Lee ; 
And this maiden lived with no other thought 

Than to love and be loved by me. 

I was a child and she was a child, 

In this kingdom by the sea : 
But we loved with a love that was more than love- 

I and my Annabel Lee ; 
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven 

Coveted her and me. 

And this was the reason that, long ago, 

In this kingdom by the sea, 
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling 

My beautiful Annabel Lee ; 



MISCELLANEOUS 223 

So that her highborn kinsman came, 

And bore her away from me ; 
To shut her up in a sepulchre 

In this kingdom by the sea. 

The angels not so happy in heaven, 

Went envying her and me — 
Yes ! that was the reason (as all men know, 

In this kingdom by the sea) 
That the wind came out of the cloud by night, 

Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee. 

But our love it was stronger by far than the love 

Of those that were older than we — 

Of many far wiser than we — 
And neither the angels in heaven above, 

Nor the demons under the sea, 
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul, 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee : 

For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee ; 
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes 

Of the beautiful Annabel Lee; 
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side 
Of my darling — my darling — my life and my bride, 

In the sepulchre there by the sea, 

In her tomb by the sounding sea. 



Doctor Cotton, an English poet, said 



" If solid happiness we prize 
Within ourselves the jewel lies 

And they are fools who roam 

This world has nothing to bestow 

From our own selves our joys must flow 
And that dear hut our home." 



2 24 MISCELLANEOUS 

Pause not to dream of the future before us, 

Pause not to weep of the wild cares that come o'er us, 

Hark, how creation's deep, musical chorus, 

Unintermitting, goes up into heaven ! 
Never the ocean wave falters in flowing ; 
Never the little seed stops in its growing; 
More and more richly the rose-heart keeps glowing, 

'Till from its nourishing stem it is riven. 

" Labor is worship " the robin is singing 
" Labor is worship " the wild bee is ringing 
Listen, that eloquent whisper is upspringing 

Speaks to thy soul from out Nature's great heart 
From the dark cloud flows the life-giving shower, 
From the rough sod blows the soft -breathing flower, 
From the small insect, the rich coral bower, 

Only man in the plan, shrinks from his part. 

Labor is life — 'Tis the still water faileth, 

Idleness ever despaireth, bewaileth, 

Keep the watch wound, for the dark rust assaileth, 

Flowers droop and die in the stillness of noon. 
Labor is glory, — the flying cloud lightens ; 
Only the waving wing changes and brightens ; 
Idle hearts only the dark future frightens ; 

Play the sweet keys, wouldst thou keep them in tune. 

Labor is rest from the sorrows that greet us, — 
Rest from all petty vexations that meet us, — 
Rest from sin -promptings that ever entreat us, — 

Rest from world sirens that lure us to ill. 
Work, and pure slumbers shall wait on thy pillow; 
Work — thou shalt ride over Care's coming billow ; 
Lie not down wearied 'neath Woe's weeping willow, 

Work with a stout heart and resolute will. 

Droop not, though shame, sin, and anguish, are round thee 
Bravely fling off the cold chain that hath bound thee, 
Look to yon pure heaven smiling beyond thee, 

Rest not content in thy darkness, a clod, 
Work for some good, be it ever so slowly, 
Cherish some flower, be it ever so lowly, 
Labor, — All labor is noble and holy, 

Let thy great deeds be thy prayer to thy GOD. 

— Osgood. 



MISCELLANEOUS 225 

MESSIAH'S COMING. 

The cleansing of the Sanctuary. — Daniel, Chap. XII. 

The cry : " He comes ! 
The signs are sure — all lands are armed for war — 
The mystic number is fulfilled — He comes ! " 

We answer : O that He would come ! we want 
The Christ ! We want a God to burn the truth 
Afresh upon the forehead of the world ! 

We want a Man to walk once more among 
The wrangling Pharisees, to drive the beasts 
And moneymongers from the temple courts ; 
To bring the gospel back again, and prove 
How all unlike the churches are to Christ! 
We want the Christ again to tell the " Saints " 
Their sins ; that they were sent to bless the poor, 
And they have sold themselves unto the rich ; 
That they were sent to preach the works of peace, 
And they have filled the world with war of words ; 
That they were sent as messengers Of love, 
And they have driven love out of the creeds ; 
That they were sent to teach men not to lie, 
Nor tremble when their duty led to death — 
O for the Christ again ! He — He would dare 
To tell the churches how they lie and cant, 
And talk of serving God — and serve themselves ; 
And talk of saving souls — to save their " cause," 
And pare and narrow God's divinest truth 
Until a man could hardly be a man 
And member of a sect. 



Already Christ is coming. Hear ye not 

The footfalls of the Lord ? He tramples down 

The cruel hedges men have built about 

The gate that leads to Heaven. He rends the creeds 

And gives their tatters to the merry winds. 

He does not come as bigots prophesy ; 

He comes the spirit of a riper age 



2 26 MISCELLANEOUS 

When all that is not good or true shall die — 
When all that's bad in custom, false in creed, 
And all that makes the boor and mars the man 
Shall pass away forever. Yes, he comes 
To give the world a passion for the truth, 
To inspire us with holy human love, 
To make us sure that, ere a man can be 
A saint, he first must be an upright man. 



THE CALF PATH. 

One day through the primeval wood 

A calf walked home as good calves should ; 

But made a trail all bent askew, 
A crooked trail, as all calves do. 

Since then three hundred years have fled, 
And I infer the calf is dead. 

But still he left behind his trail, 
And thereby hangs my moral tale. 

The trail was taken up next day 
By a lone dog that passed that way. 

And then a wise bell-wether sheep 
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep, 

And drew the flock behind him, too, 
As good bell-wethers always do. 

And from that day, o'er hill and glade, 
Through those old woods a path was made, 

And many men wound in and out, 
And dodged and turned and bent about, 

And uttered words of righteous wrath 
Because it was such a crooked path ; 

But still they followed — do not laugh — 
The first migrations of that calf. 



MISCELLANEOUS 227 

And through this winding wood -way stalked 
Because he wobbled when he walked. 

This forest path became a lane, 

That bent and turned and turned again ; 

This crooked lane became a road, 
Where many a poor horse with his load 
Traveled the same tw T o miles in one. 

The years passed on w r ith swiftness fleet, 
The road became a village street ; 

And this, before men were aware, 
A city's crowded thoroughfare, 

And soon the central street was this 
Of a renowned metropolis ; 

And men two centuries and a half 
Trod in the footsteps of that calf, 

Each day a hundred thousand rout 
Followed this zigzag calf about, 

And o'er this crooked journey w r ent 
The traffic of a continent. 

A hundred thousand men were led 
By one calf near three centuries dead. 

They followed still his crooked way, . 
And lost one hundred years a day ; 

For thus such reverence is lent 
To well-established precedent. 

A moral lesson this might teach 
Were I ordained and called to preach ; 

For men are prone to go it blind 
Along the calf paths of the mind. 

And work away from sun to sun, 
To do what other men have done. 



2 28 MISCELLANEOUS 

They follow in the beaten track 
And out and in and forth and back, 

And still their devious course pursue, 
To keep the path that others do. 

They keep along the path a sacred groove, 
Along which all their lives they move ; 

But how the wise old wood-gods laugh 
Who saw the first primeval calf. 

Ah, many things this tale might teach — 
But I am not ordained to preach. 

— Sam Walter Foss. 



PARKER MEMORIAL. 

Before the twenty-eighth Congregational Society, at Parker 
Memorial Hall, Rev. W. R. Alger preached on " The contra- 
diction between the theory and practice of Christendom and 
the remedy for it," from Matthew, xxv : 40 — " Inasmuch as you 
have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye 
have done it unto me." Christianity, he said, was given to 
humanity, it has always been thought, to secure the redemption 
of the human race and the establishment of the kingdom of 
Heaven upon earth. It must be that when Christ's precepts 
are everywhere acknowledged sin and injustice will be done 
away with. His religion is already enthroned upon the earth. 
Those nations which possess the major portion of the wealth, 
education and science of the world ostentatiously proclaim their 
belief in Him and their following of His precepts. The sum of 
$6,000,000,000 is invested in churches, schools and theological 
colleges; an army of 250,000 priests is engaged in drilling the 
people in His religion at an annual expense of $500,000,000, 
and yet with this material triumph of Christianity the world is 



MISCELLANEOUS 229 

yet unredeemed. Why is this ? Because Christianity has been 
perverted into a vast engine for the attainment of selfish ends 
instead of being made a tender spirit of philanthropy and piety. 
His ruling principle for the guidance and redemption of men is 
embodied in the words of the Golden Rule. In proportion to 
the prevalence of this rule, Christ's spirit, the evils of the world 
must decrease, and herein lies the hope. But the love of power 
is one of the very deepest impulses of our nature, and lives in 
priests as in other men. The contention for offices in the 
church has been as intense and rancorous in every age as in 
the political field, and hence the temptation to subordinate the 
principles which they should teach to the attainment of tempo- 
ral power. The whole body of ecclesiastical instructors became 
a set of men with twisted and distorted minds, who were con- 
tent to follow a routine of instruction easily performed, rather 
than to explain and enlarge upon their precepts. They have 
actually taught against the example of Christ. The church, 
both Catholic and Protestant, has given chief prominence to 
ceremonial conformity and dogmatic belief, but the repetition 
of all the articles of the Council of Trent would render the 
world not a whit better. In view of the facts of the case, what 
a picture of unconscious hypocrisy is formed by the contrast. 
Out of the 300,000,000 so-called Christians 50,000,000 of the 
wealthiest go in church on Sunday and piously intone their 
litany, while during the rest of the week they struggle with each 
other for gain, without once applying any of the principles 
which they so devoutly repeated in the church. Consistency 
requires that Christendom must do one of two things, either 
practice what it professes, or abandon its professions and cease 
its daily stultifying of itself. The doctrine of the sanctification 
of the whole field of human experience, the holiness of all truth, 
the sanctity of all good, is a doctrine which is patiently awaiting 
recognition to step in as a conciliator and remedy the defects 
of the Christian professions of to-day. 

The church has selected a few truths and set its seal upon 
them, giving its subjects the full privilege to enjoy them, and 



23O MISCELLANEOUS 

the rest it has thrust away as secular or profane, and hence 
unhallowed. The principles of the church creed and of philos- 
ophy make an illustration, yet every principle of truth is a 
revelation of God. The church permits ecclesiastical music, 
but forbids operatic or martial, as the very lurements of the 
devil, yet the soul of each is alike. These are distinctions not 
recognized in the eyes of God, that which the church takes 
under its approval, and that which it does not, distinctions 
made according to their capacity to serve ecclesiastical power. 
What is needed in the restoration of every province of truth 
and love to the domain of the church. Every circumstance of 
human experience is as distinctly under the scrutiny of moral 
and religious law as anything enacted before the Sunday altar. 
Christ said that it was His meat and drink to do the will of Him 
that sent Him, and that for this end was He born, and for this 
cause came He into the world, that He might bear witness 
unto Him. The service of God is not the cultivation of arbi- 
trary rites, or the separation of religion from life, making it a 
technicality, nor can we do or neglect to do anything we please 
with impunity so long as we hold to the orthodox church. God 
speaks in every truth revealed by science with the same author- 
ity that He does in the devotional truths and warnings of the 
New Testament. We are to do all to the glory of God, regard- 
ing everything in life as essentially moral and intrinsically 
religious. Every truth, physical or scientific, no less than 
moral or religious, involves duties to be scrupulously obeyed, 
and all sanctity to be attributed to the truths of the text must 
be attributed to every truth. We must believe that in every 
man exists the potentiality of a Christ, and regard all men with 
the same spirit of reverence with which we would regard them, 
were we certain that they were the embodiment of God, and 
with this spirit in us our conduct may be easily determined, a 
discipline to be enlarged and cleansed until we see Christ in 
every man, and most intensely in the most needy with whom 
Christ expressly identified himself. The individual qualities in 
every man represent himself, the universal represent God. 



MISCELLANEOUS 23 1 

" Abou Ben Adhem (may his tribe increase! ) 

Awoke one night from a deep dream of peace, 

And saw within the moonlight of his room, 

Making it rich and like the lily in bloom, 

An angel writing in a book of gold ; 

Exceeding peace had made Ben Adhem bold, 

And to the presence in the room he said, 

' What writest thou ? ' The vision raised his head, 

And, with a look made of all sweet accord, 

Answered, ' The names of those who love the Lord.' 

' And is mine one ? ' said Abou. ' Nay, not so,' 

Replied the angel. Abou spake more low, 

But cheerily still, and said, ' I pray thee, then, 

Write me as one who loves his fellowmen.' 

The angel wrote and vanished. The next night, 

He came again, with a great waking light, 

And showed the names whom love of God had blest, 

When, lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest." 



" 'Tis better to endure the wrong 

Which evil hands and tongues commit, 

The bold encroachments of the strong, 
The shafts of calumny and wit — 

The scornful bearing of the proud, 

The sneers and laughter of the crowd. 

" And harder still it is to bear, 

The censure of the good and wise, 

Who, ignorant of what you are, 
Or branded by the slanderer's lies, 

Look coldly on, or pass you by 

In silence, with averted eye. 

" But when the friends in whom you trust 
Were steadfast as the mountain rock 

Fly, and are scattered as the dust 
Before misfortune's whirlwind shock, 

Nor love remains to cheer your fall — 

This is more terrible than all ! 



"But even this, and these, — ay, more,- 
Can be endured, and hope survive ; 



232 MISCELLANEOUS 

The noble spirit still may soar, 

Although the body fails to thrive. 
Disease and want may wear the frame, 
Thank God, the soul is still the same ! 

" Hold up your head, thou man of grief 1 
No longer to the tempest bend ; 

For soon or late must come relief — 
The coldest, darkest night will end. 

Hope in the true heart never dies ; 

Trust on, the day star yet shall rise ! 

" Conscious of purity and worth, 
You may with calm assurance wait 

The tardy recompense of earth ; 

And e'en should justice come too late 

To soothe the spirit's homeward flight, 

Heaven at last the wrong shall right." 



ETERNAL JUSTICE. 

The man is thought a knave or fool, 

Or bigot, plotting crime, 
Who, for the advancement of his kind, 

Is wiser than his time. 
For him the hemlock shall distil, 

For him the axe be bared ; 
For him the gibbet shall be built, 

For him the stake prepared ; 
Him shall the scorn and wrath of men 

Pursue with deadly aim ; 
And malice, envy, spite, and lies, 

Shall desecrate his name. 
But truth shall conquer at the last, 

For round and round we run, 
And ever the right comes uppermost, 

And ever is justice done. 

Pace through thy cell, old Socrates, 

Cheerily to and fro, 
Trust to the impulse of thy soul, 

And let the poison flow. 



MISCELLANEOUS 233 

They may shatter to earth the lamp of clay 

That holds a light divine, 
But they cannot quench the fire of thought 

By any such deadly wine. 
They cannot blot thy spoken words 

From the memory of man, 
By all the poison ever was brewed 

Since time its course began. 
To-day abhorred, to-morrow adored, 

So round and round we run, 
And ever the truth comes uppermost, 

And ever is justice done. 



Plod in thy cave, gray Anchorite ! 

Be wiser than thy peers ; 
Augment the range of human power, 

And trust to coming years. 
They may call thee wizard, and monk accursed, 

And load thee with dispraise, 
Thou wert born five hundred years too soon 

For the comfort of thy days. 
But not too soon for human kind, 

Time hath reward in store, 
And the demons of our sires become 

The saints that we adore. 
The blind can see, the slave is lord ; 

So round and round we run, 
And ever the wrong is proved to be wrong, 

And ever is justice done. 

Keep Galileo to thy thought 

And nerve thy soul to bear ! 
They may gloat o'er the senseless words they wring 

From the pangs of thy despair: 
They may veil their eyes, but they cannot hide 

The sun's meridian glow ; 
The heel of a priest may tread thee down, 

And a tyrant work thee woe. 
But never a truth has been destroyed: 

They may curse it and call it crime. 
Pervert and betray, or slander and slay 

Its teachers, for a time. 



234 MISCELLANEOUS 

But the sunshine, aye, shall light the sky, 
As round and round we run, 

And the truth shall ever come uppermost, 
And justice shall be done. 

And live there now such men as these, 

With thoughts like the great of old ? 
Many have died in their misery, 

And left their thought untold; 
And many live, and are ranked as mad, 

And placed in the cold world's ban, 
For sending their bright, far-seeing souls. 

Three centuries in the van. 
They toil in penury and grief, 

Unknown, if not maligned ; 
Forlorn, forlorn, bearing the scorn 

Of the meanest of mankind. 
But yet the world goes round and round, 

And the genial seasons run, 
And ever the truth comes uppermost 

And ever is justice done. 

— Mackay. 

UNSOLD LAND. 
" The land shall not be sold." Lev. 25 : 23. 

" A billion of acres of unsold land 

Are lying in grievous dearth ; 
And millions of men in the image of God 

Are starving all over the earth ! 
O, tell me, ye sons of America, 

How much men's lives are worth ! 

" Ten hundred millions of acres good, 
That never knew spade or plough ; 

And a million of souls in our goodly land 
Are pining in want, I trow, 

And orphans are crying for bread this day, 
And widows in misery bow ! 

" To whom do these acres of land belong ? 

And why do they thriftless lie? 
And why is the widow's lament unheard, 

And stifled the orphan's cry ? 



MISCELLANEOUS 235 

And why are storehouse and prison full, 
And the gallows tree is high ? 

" Those millions of acres belong to man ! 

And his claim is — that he needs ! 
And his title is signed by the hand of God — 

Our God, who, the raven feeds ; 
And the starving soul of each famishing man 

At the throne of justice pleads. 

" Ye may not heed it, ye haughty men, 

Whose hearts as rocks are cold ; 
But the time shall come when the fiat of God 

In the thunder shall be told ! 
For the voice of the great I Am hath said, 

That the ' land shall not be sold.' " 

HANGING. 

" How is it, when you doom to death 

Some victim for his crimes, 
Accounting him not fit to live, 

You still allow him time 
To make his peace with God, for what 

Yourselves will not forgive ; 
Presuming him, when fit to die, 

As not yet fit to live ? 

" Now, though he be not fit to live, 

Is he prepared to die — 
Sent strangled from this world of woe 

Before his God on high ? 
You send unto his darkened soul 

Repentance and the priest, 
And when reduced to penitence 

You hang him like a beast. 

" How can you know just how much time 

Your victim should be given 
For such repentance as shall send 

His spirit pure to heaven ? 
Supporters of the bloody code, 

I pause for a reply : 
How is it, if unfit to live, 

A man is fit to die ?" 



236 MISCELLANEOUS 

NEVER DESPAIR. 

" If slave to poverty thou art, 

Bear bravely with thy lot ; 
Though keen her galling chains may smart, 
Strive still to rend their links apart! 
Hope on ! for the despairing heart 

God surely loveth not. 

" Hope on, hope on, though drear and dark 

Thy future may appear, 
The sailor in his storm -tossed bark 
Still guides the helm and hopes to mark 
Amid the gloom, some beacon spark 

His dangerous way to cheer. 

" Though wealth take wings, or friends forsake, 

Be not by grief oppressed ; 
Stern winter binds with ice the lake, 
But genial spring its bonds shall break. 
Hope on, a firmer purpose take, 

And leave to God the rest." 

THE SPIRIT OF NATURE. 

I have come from the heart of all natural things, 

Whose life from the Soul of the beautiful springs ; 

You shall hear the sweet waving of corn in my voice, 

And the musical whisper of leaves that rejoice, 

For my lips have been touched by the spirit of prayer, 

Which lingers unseen in the soft summer air; 

And the smile of the sunshine that brightens the skies, 

Hath left a glad ray of its light in my eyes. 

On the sea-beaten shore — 'mid the dwellings of men — 

In the field, or the forest, or wild mountain glen ; 

Wherever the grass or a daisy could spring, 

Or the musical laughter of childhood could ring ; 

Wherever a swallow could build 'neath the eaves, 

Or a squirrel could hide in his covert of leaves, 

I have felt the sweet presence, and heard the low call, 

Of the Spirit of Nature, which quickens us all. 



MISCELLANEOUS 237 

Grown weary and worn with the conflict of creeds, 
I had sought a new faith for the soul with its needs, 
When the love of the Beautiful guided my feet 
Through a leafy arcade to a sylvan retreat, 
Where the oriole sung in the branches above, 
And the wild roses burned with their blushes of love, 
And the purple-fringed aster, and bright golden -rod, 
Like jewels of beauty adorned the green sod. 

O, how blessed to feel from the care-laden heart 
All the sorrows and woes that oppressed it depart, 
And to lay the tired head, with its achings, to rest 
On the heart of all others that loves it the best ; 
O, thus is it ever, when wearied, we yearn 
To the bosom of Nature and Truth to return, 
And life blossoms forth into beauty anew, 
As we learn to repose in the Simple and True. 

No longer with self or with Nature at strife, 
The soul feels the presence of Infinite Life ; 
And the voice of a child or the hum of a bee — 
The somnolent roll of the deep -heaving sea — 
The mountains uprising in grandeur and might — 
The stars that look forth from the depths of the night, 
All speak in one language, persuasive and clear, 
To him who in spirit is waiting to hear. 

There is something in Nature beyond our control, 

That is tenderly winning the love of each soul ; 

We shall linger no longer in darkness and doubt, 

When the Beauty within meets the Beauty without. 

Sweet Spirit of Nature ! whatever thou art, 

O, fold us like children, close, close to thy heart, 

Till we learn that thy bosom is Truth's hallowed shrine, 

And the soul of the Beautiful is — the Divine. 

— Lizzie Doten. 



WISDOM IS KNOWN OF HER CHILDREN. 

" My heart is sick, my soul is pained within, 
To see this Babel-world so rent with strife ; 

To hear its heartless shouts, its Babel din, 
As onward flow the feverish streams of life : 



238 MISCELLANEOUS 

There rush the worshippers of gold and pelf ; 
Here stand the human gods of pride and self. 

" Behold the struggle ! the mad, selfish rush 
For shining baubles or a beggar's crust ! 

In vain, divines, ye try the tides to hush, 

Though hearts are dead or bleeding in the dust. 

There kneels the nabob, drawling out a prayer ; 

Here dies the o'er-worked victim in despair. 

" Like chaos -fragments strewn upon life's sea, 
And hastening onward to an uncared shore, — 

Whirling and dashing ever as they flee, — 

Leaping and crashing 'mid the storm-king's roar, 

Is the mad world of men. Wrecked is the world 

By self and sense, to very chaos hurled. 

" Gold, give me gold, though dimmed with orphan's tears. 

Fame, give me fame, though bought with human gore ! 
Away with heart and soul — away with fears ! — 

Gold, gold, though here's the grave, yet give me more ! 
Shut up the book, talk not of brotherhood ; 
Man lives for self, not for the common good. 

" For untold ages thus the world hath gone, 
By self and sense in broken fragments riven, 

Yet yearning still for a millennial dawn, 

When this same world should be a type of heaven. 

Talk not of heaven, or of a golden age, 

While social ills in ceaseless battles rage. 

" Ten thousand temple domes in grandeur rise 

Where priestdom learned expounds the ' word of life,' 

Where man is taught to live but for the skies, 
And leave to Satan this mad world of strife, 

Where Sinai's assay the Soul to awe, 

And creed is worshipped as the saving law ! 

" The human mind by threats of heavenly wrath 
Has long been chained within a narrow sphere ; 

Like a poor blind man groping for the path, 
Yet fearing still the pitfalls opened near. 

Thus man, alas, choosing a moral night, 

Let reason lead him from the creeds' dim light. 



MISCELLANEOUS 239 

" The world is rich in musty lore and creeds — 

In mysticism, and in temple show — 
In spirit -chains ; but poor in brother deeds 

To the great brotherhood of man below. 
The central truth designed the world to save 
Is crushed by self to a dishonored grave I " 

— JV. Brown. 

AMONG THE MISTS. 

Think me not unkind if o'er my features, 

Oft the lines of care and sadness play ; 
We are all but weak, unthankful creatures, 

And my thoughts are often far away. 

Much they love to dwell on one who left me 

Ere your gentle breathing had begun ; 
And I thought that parting had bereft me 

Of all joy in life, till life were done. 

Then you came ; and in your slow, sweet fashion 

Twined the parted strands of hope anew ; 
Starting in this lonely breast the passion 

That has burned these many days for you. 

Blame me not, if, from your roses turning, 
Thought would view the lilies on the mound. 

'Tis not that, your loving spirit spurning, 
I reject the consolation found ; 

But the snows of life are thickly sifting 

Through the scanty locks so dark in youth ; 
But a step for me before the lifting 

Of the mists that hide the hills of Truth ; 

And I could not prize you half so dearly, 

Loved I not remembrance of the dead. 
'Tis by the borrowed light I see so clearly, 

Pitfalls in the path we daily tread. 

Loosen not your clasp upon my fingers, 

Loosen not your hold upon my life. 
All of loving tenderness that lingers, 

Gave I the holy name of Wife. 

— Harriet E. Pritchard. 



24O MISCELLANEOUS 

THE CHEMISTRY OF CHARACTER. 

John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul, 
God in his wisdom created them all. 
John was a statesman, and Peter a slave, 
Robert a preacher, and Paul — was a knave. 
Evil or good as the case might be, 
White or colored, or bond or free — 
John, and Peter, and Robert and Paul, 
God in his wisdom created them all. 

Out of earth's elements, mingled with flame, 
Out of life's compounds of glory and shame, 
Fashioned and shaped by no will of their own, 
And helplessly into life's history thrown ; 
Born by the law that compels men to be, 
Born to conditions they could not foresee, 
John, and Peter, and Robert and Paul, 
God in his wisdom created them all. 

John was the head and the heart of his State, 
Was trusted and honored, was noble and great, 
Peter was made 'neath life's burdens to groan, 
And never once dreamed that his soul was his own. 
Robert great glory and honor received, 
For zealously preaching what no one believed; 
While Paul, of the pleasures of sin took his fill, 
And gave up his life to the service of ill. 

It chanced that these men, in their passing away 

From earth and its conflicts, all died the same day, 

John was mourned through the length and the breadth of the land 

Peter fell 'neath the lash by a merciless hand — 

Robert died with the praise of the Lord on his tongue — 

While Paul was convicted of murder, and hung. 

John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul, 

The purpose of life was fullfilled in them all. 

Men said of the Statesman — " How noble and brave ! " 
But of Peter, alas ! — " He was only a Slave." 
Of Robert — " 'Tis well with his soul — it is well ; " 
While Paul they consigned to the torments of hell. 
Born by one law through all Nature the same, 
What made them differ ? and who was to blame ? 



MISCELLANEOUS 24 1 



John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul, 
God in his wisdom created them all. 



Out in that region of infinite light, 

Where the soul of the black man is pure as the white — 

Out where the spirit, through sorrow made wise, 

No longer resorts to deception and lies — 

Out where the flesh can no longer control 

The freedom and faith of the God given soul — 

Who shall determine what change may befall 

John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul? 

John may in his wisdom and goodness increase — 

Peter rejoice in an infinite peace — 

Robert may learn that the truths of the Lord 

Are more in the spirit, and less in the word — 

And Paul may be blest with a holier birth 

Than the passions of man had allowed him on earth. 

John, and Peter, and Robert, and Paul, 

God in his wisdom will care for them all. 

— Lizzie Doten. 



THE HEAVENLY SYMBOLS. 

O God, what symbols dost thou give 

To such as near to nature live ! 

Thou show'st to such, life's soul -desire 

In wildly heaven-ascending fire 

And of time's passing they must dream 

While sitting by the rushing stream 

In starring circles they can guess 

The mystery of endlessness. 

Thou singest in the sounding sea 

Thy all -pervading harmony 

Dost in the sun's unceasing light 

Show truth for our weak eyes too bright ; 

Dost in the midnight heavens keep 

The symbol of Thy secret deep. 

— J. P. Harrington. 



242 MISCELLANEOUS 

CAMPAIGN SONG. 

(Dedicated to the Portland Grant Club.) 

You who have with Sherman bled, 
You whom Grant hath often led, 
Hear the voices of the dead, 
Call to Victory ! 

" Now's the day, and now's the hour! 
See the front of battle lower," 
See approach oppression's power. 
Chains and Slavery. 

Who like a trait'rous knave, 
Leaves the standard of the brave, 
Baser than a fawning slave, 
Bid them turn and flee ! 

You who fought with Porter well 
On the night when shot and shell 
Seemed vieing with the fires of hell 
Lighting land and sea. 

Come once more at duty's call, 
And their souls with dread appall, 
As on the news of Vicksburg's fall ; 
Sank the heart of Lee. 

By your sufferings, wounds and pain, 
You have broken every chain, 
Sparing not your dearest vein, 
If to make us free. 

Once again the venal crew, 
Raise their hands against the true. 
Rally ! all ye " boys in blue," 
'Till the traitors flee. 

Bravely face November's gale 
As you faced the leaden hail 
Led by him they dare assail 
On to victory ! 

E'er election day is done, 
You with ballot, as with gun, 
Shall proclaim the battle won, 

And the nation free. — John M. Todd. 



MISCELLANEOUS 243 



For the people in this time of need I pray — 

" God give us men ! A time like this demands 

Clear minds, pure hearts, true faith, and ready hands — 

Men who possess opinions and a will ; 

Men whom desire for office does not kill ; 

Men whom the spoils of office cannot buy ; 

Men who have honor — men who will not lie ; 

Tall men — sun-crowned — who live above the fog 

In public duty and in private thinking ; 

Men who can stand before a demagogue 

And damn his treacherous flatteries without winking : 

For, while political tricksters, with their worn-out creeds, 

Their large professions and their little deeds, 

Wrangle in selfish strife, lo ! Freedom weeps, 

Wrong rules the land and waiting Justice sleeps ! " 



GOVERNMENT. 

Daniel Webster said : 

"The freest government cannot long endure where the 
tendency of the law is to create a rapid accumulation of prop- 
erty in the hands of a few and to render the masses of the 
people poor and dependent." 

The party of the future demands justice as the basis of all 
legislation, and will be satisfied with nothing less. 

Civil government is the proper remedy for the inconvenience 
of a state of nature. — Locke. 

The government most conformable to nature is that whose 
particular disposition best agrees with the humor and disposition 
of the people in whose favor it is established. — Mo?itesquieu. 

Government may be a tyranny, but it cannot be a chaos, the 
moment it becomes a chaos it ceases to exist. Society must be 
recognized. — Mansfield. 



244 MISCELLANEOUS 

The best government is where the people obey the magis- 
trates, and the magistrates the law. — Solon. 

As government is impressed by its constitution, so it must 
necessarily act. — Seward. 

The aggregate happiness of society, which is best promoted 
by the practice of a virtuous policy, is or ought to be the end 
of all government. — Washington. 

The strength of a government is the friendship and love of 
its people. — Victor Emanuel II. 

There is no stronger bond of loyalty than a mild and equita- 
ble government. — Livy. 

A tenacious adherence to the rights and liberties transmitted 
from a wise and virtuous ancestry, public spirit, and a love of 
one's country, are the support and ornament of government. 
— Addison. 

Religion hath a good influence upon the people, to make 
them obedient to government, and peaceable one toward an- 
other. — Til lot son . 

A government that is hated seldom lasts long. — Seneca. 

No government, any more than an individual, will long be 
respected without being truly respectable. — Madison. 

When a new government is established, by whatever means, 
the people are commonly dissatisfied with it. — Hume. 

The administration of government like a guardianship, ought 
to be directed to the good of those who confer, and not of those 
who receive the trust. — Cicero. 

Except wise men be made governors, or governors be made 
wise men, mankind shall never live in quiet, nor virtues be able 
to defend herself. — Plato. 



MISCELLANEOUS 245 

Governments which do not curb evils are chargeable with 
causing them. — G. D. Prentice. 

With how little wisdom the world is governed. — Oxenstiern. 

We are often governed by people not only weaker than our- 
selves, but even those whom we think so. — Lord Greville. 

We cannot dispense with governments ; we must commit 
power to somebody, and therefor expose it to abuse. — Dwight. 



SOCIALISM. 



A MAN'S A MAN FOR A' THAT. 

" Is there for honest poverty, 
That hangs his head, and a' that ? 
The coward slave, we pass him by, 
We dare be poor for a' that ! 
For a' that, and a' that 
Our toils obscure, and a' that : 
The rank is but the guinea stamp ; 
The man's the gowd for a' that. 

" What tho' on homely fare we dine, 

Wear hoddin-gray, and a' that; 

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine 

A man's a man, for a' that 

For a' that and a' that, 

Their tinsel show and a' that ; 

The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor, 

Is king o' men for a' that. 

" Ye see yon birkie, ca'd I a lord, 
Wha' struts and stares' and a' that ; 
Tho' hundreds worship at his word, 
He's but a coof for a' that. 
For a' that, and a' that, 
His riband, star, and a' that, 
The man of independent mind, 
He looks and laughs for a' that. 

"A prince can mak a belted knight, 

A marquis, duke, and a' that ; 

But an honest man's aboon his might. 

Gude faith, he manna fa' that ! 

For a' that, and a' that, 

Their dignities and a' that, 

The pith o' sense, and pride o' worth, 

Are higher rank than a' that. 



SOCIALISM 247 



" Then let us pray that come what may, 

As come it will for a' that ; 

That sense and worth, o'er a' the earth, 

May bear the gree, and a' that ; 

For a' that, and a' that ; 

It's coming yet, for a' that ; 

That man to man, the world o'er, 

Shall brothers be for a' that." 

— Robert Burns. 



DESTINY OF THE NATION. 

PARKER PILLSBURY'S PROPHECY. 

The nation is hastening to its baptism. It is a baptism of 
blood. It were downright atheism not to believe it. It was 
prophecy, dictated by inspiration, when the sage of Monticello, 
beholding the tears of the oppressed, exclaimed : "I tremble for 
my country when I remember that God is just, and that His 
justice cannot sleep forever." 

No matter though the warning were not thundered from 
Mount Sinai, nor threatened in stern decree by Hebrew prophet 
commissioned of God. It was founded on the highest, holiest 
philosophy. It was based on Nature's irrevocable statutes — 
on the never-changing law that links events to their causes 
throughout the universe. 

By a moral evaporation has our guilt been ascending, until 
the dark cloud hangs suspended in the heavens all charged 
with thunder, too soon to hurl the bolts of all nature's righteous 
indignation down upon us. Sorry philosopher is he who thinks 
to stay the desolation. Nature must be false to herself, must 
repeal her eternal mandates, or the dread prediction shall be 
fulfilled. 

There is a moral as well as physical gravitation, and the laws 
of both are beyond all human control. Call it what men may, 
the vengeance of Jehovah or the action of natural causes and 



248 SOCIALISM 

effects, the result is the same. Who needs one to come from 
heaven to assure him that the wages of sin is death ? The 
solemn declaration is written, not on Judean parchment alone, 
by pen of inspiration, but in all history, in all experience, and 
on nature's broad face all over the domain of God. 

There is no longer hope. The church should have averted 
the doom. She might have done it; but instead, she has 
invited it, with most unholy zeal. No depravity has been too 
desperate for her to sanction. Slavery has been her delight. 
Slave breeders and slave brokers, slave drivers and slave 
owners, their hands dripping with blood of the bondman, have 
ever been welcomed to her sacramental feasts. There is no 
salvation in such a church ; there can be none. Rather is she 
not a mill-stone on the nation's neck, to make more dread and 
certain the nation's calamity ? 

Concord, N. H., 1847. 

No truer prophecy was ever spoken than the above. And as 
terrible a judgment awaits this nation at no distant day, if the 
workers of iniquity do not cease poisoning the food they sell to 
the people, and turn to the paths of righteousness and deal 
justly and learn this truth quickly, that it is as great a crime to 
poison your neighbor as it was to sell him into slavery, as our 
southern brothers did in anti-bellum times, and that a terrible 
curse awaits them if they continue in wrong doing. — Ed. 



COLUMBIA'S LAND. 

Is your armor all on for the glorious strife, 

And your oath recorded on high ? 
Are you pledged for fair freedom that's dearer than life. 

Or fighting for freedom to die ? 
If so, fellow freemen, then give the right hand, 
And swear that for freedom forever you'll stand. 

This land we hold sacred, and 'tis left to our trust — 
God bless the fair land of the brave ! 



SOCIALISM 249 

Should old Shylock but tread on our forefather's dust, 

It would rouse the old dead from the grave, 
Then rise fellow freemen and give the right hand 
And swear for justice forever you'll stand. 

In Columbia's land a spoiler abide, 

Profaning its love and its charms ? 
Shall avarice sever the loved wife from our side, 

And tear our sweet babes from our arms ? 
If not, fellow freemen, then give the right hand, 
And swear that old Shylock we never will stand. 

Shall avarice enchain us, my countrymen, No ! 

From earth let the tyrant be driven ! 
For millions of freemen shall teach the proud foe 

That the fetters they've forged shall be riven. 
Now rise, fellow freemen, and give the right hand 
And drive the old Shylock straight out of the land. 

—John M. Todd, 1861. 



REPRESENTATIVE GOVERNMENT A FAILURE. 

We must come back to a Democratic form of Government. 
That is, we have tried the Representative form, and we all must 
see that it invites bribery and corruption. And my present 
remedy is referendum, that is when a law has been passed by 
the legislature it will not become a law until it has been referred 
to the people, so they can vote upon it before it becomes a law. 
That is, if a certain number of voters wish to have it referred 
to the people. You see that would do away with the practice 
of large corporations, bribing law-makers for they would at once 
see the folly of purchasing legislators, for it would be a too 
uncertain investment, if they knew the people could, and prob- 
ably would vote upon and destroy it and what they had paid 
out to the representatives had gone up the spout where the 
woodbine twineth. Oh, that the people would inform them- 
selves, they would find the panacea for their political and 
economic ills in the ballot, not strikes and war. 



25O SOCIALISM 

TROUBLE AHEAD.— LET IT COME. 

We run across croakers every day who are shivering and 
shaking for fear that trouble will come out of the labor move- 
ment. They hardly dare speak above a whisper, but when 
they do speak it is with fear and trembling lest we shall have 
trouble before the labor difficulties are settled. We have no 
fears of any more trouble in the future than has been in the 
past. W T e have been in trouble ever since we were born, and 
much of our trouble has been to know where the next month's 
provisions were to come from ; how we should get the next 
suit of clothes when these were gone unless we could get trusted 
again. But the trouble in the future is not going to be so 
much with the laboring class as with those who have been reap- 
ing millions from the toil of others. The men who have sys- 
tematically robbed the producers of all wealth are going to be 
troubled in the future to get such big dividends as they have in 
the past. That is where the trouble is going to be, and that is 
what makes the croakers referred to in the beginning of this 
article, turn pale at the mention of the name, Socialism. 

Politicians are going to be troubled in the future about getting 
a second election after they have betrayed those who elected 
them. Our congressmen are going to be troubled to show by 
acts instead of words that they are in sympathy with the labor- 
ing class, while all political rings will have much trouble in 
wiping in the votes as in days gone by. In fact, Mr. Croaker, 
the day of deliverance is near at hand for the millions of toilers 
of the earth, while trouble is brewing for the evil doers. Let 
it come. It is the kind of trouble that ought to have come 
long ago by an intelligent ballot. — Boston American. 

ANDREW JACKSON. 

We endorse it. It is a state paper that will live on in the 
ages. We are in the same crucible now : 



SOCIALISM 251 

" But if they (Congress) have the power to regulate the cur- 
rency, it was conferred to be exercised by themselves and not 
to be transferred to corporations. ... It is neither necessary 
nor proper to transfer its legislative powers to such a bank, and 
therefore unconstitutional." — President Jackson's message July 
10, 1832. 

Corporations which create the paper money cannot be relied 
on to keep the circulating medium uniform in amount. — Presi- 
dent Jackson's Farewell Address. 

" In the full enjoyment of the blessings of heaven, and the 
fruits of superior industry, economy and virtue, every man is 
equally entitled to protection by law. But when the laws 
undertake to add to these natural and just advantages, artificial 
distinctions — to grant titles, gratuities and exclusive privileges, 
to make the rich richer and more powerful — the humble mem- 
bers of society, the farmers, mechanics and laborers, who 
have neither the time nor the means of securing like favor to 
themselves, have a right to complain of the injustice of their 
government." — President Jackson. 

Many years ago over the door of an inn in London, hung a 
sign representing the four ruling elements of the government. 
It was the picture of four men standing upon the shoulders of 
each other. At the top stood the king, and on his breast was 
the legend, "I govern all;" under him stood the soldier, and 
on his breast was the motto, " I fight for all ; " next came the 
clergyman, upon whose breast were the words, " I pray for all ; " 
at the bottom stood the laborer, every nerve strained to support 
his tremendous burden, and on his breast was written, " I pay 
for all." 

A WORD ON THE LABOR QUESTION. 

Socialists: You are right in seeking to protect and elevate 
labor ; but you are wrong if you forget that capital honestly 
obtained is labor ; it is the stored up energy of labor. Don't 



252 SOCIALISM 

overlook your strongest argument. Here it is : According to 
the census of 1880 the wealth of this country increased the ten 
preceding years from $24,000,000,000 to $43,640,000,000. In 
the same time, the same census reveals the average wages of 
the laboring man per annum decreased from a little more than 
$400 to a little more than $300. That is, while the wealth in- 
creased some eighty per cent wages decreased one-fourth. 
There is something frightfully wrong in this. Machinery and 
the competitive system applied to wages are grinding the work- 
ing man. We must look this fact in the face. In some way it 
can be righted. There can be no permanent progress that 
does not lift society from the bottom. Free discussion, the 
force of reason with patience, will right the wrong. 



NO WAR DEBT. 

When Babylon went down, two per cent of her population 
owned all of her wealth. The people were starved to death. 

When Persia went down, one per cent of her population 
owned the land. 

When Rome went down, 1,800 men owned all the whole 
world. 

There are about forty millions of people in England, Ireland 
and Wales, and 100,000 men own all the land in the United 
Kingdom. 

For the past twenty years the United States has rapidly 
followed in the steps of those old nations. Here are the fig- 
ures: In 1850, capitalists owned thirty-seven and one-half per 
cent of the nation's wealth. In 1870 they owned sixty-three 
per cent. In 1880, about 30,000 owned three-fifths of the 
entire wealth. — PeopWs Advocate. 

When the patriot Lincoln saw the deliberate preparation 
made for just the crimes of the rich against the poor that are 
above indicated, no wonder that his heart — bleeding for the 



SOCIALISM 253 

woes that threatened his country, and which he was powerless 
to avert — gave utterance to the following mournful prophecy : 

I see in the near future a crisis arising that unnerves me. 
and causes me to tremble for the safety of my country. As a 
result of the war, corporations have been enthroned, and an era 
of corruption in high places will follow, and the money power 
of the country will endeavor to prolong its reign by working 
upon the prejudices of the people until wealth is aggregated in 
a few hands, and the republic is destroyed. I feel, at this point, 
more anxiety for the safety of my country than ever before, 
even in the midst of war. — Abraham Lincoln. 

His far-sighted policy had been such as to avoid the con- 
traction of a great war debt in imitation of the great European 
powers, and yet he had seen measures set on foot (in accord- 
ance with the advice of British bankers to American bankers to 
" see to it that a great debt is made out of the war,") to coun- 
teract his beneficent plans, and, in imitation of England, saddle, 
if possible, a vast debt for all time upon the shoulders of labor. 
The present status is that in which (after paying over $4,000,- 
000,000 for nothing, to these heartless conspirators,) what is 
left — now put into the form of debt, not money, as it was under 
his planning — will require for its payment, in the products of 
labor (real values), far more than would have paid it all, when 
their cruel schemes were, alas, successfully made. Let it for- 
ever be known that at the close of the war, when the infernal 
scheme of spoliation by contraction of the country's currency 
began, there was no war debt. 

We often notice in the public print such expressions as " the 
great war debt of the Rebellion." We now undertake to deny 
all such expressions. They are false. The late war between 
the states created no debt of consequence. When Lincoln 
came into office he found a gigantic war on his hands, and an 
empty treasury. lie attempted to borrow money, and succeeded 
in getting about $75,000,000 at big interest. No foreign nation 



254 SOCIALISM 

did or would loan us a dollar or buy a bond of us. That 
$75,000,000 was all lost by the first great battle at Bull's Run 

Lincoln, the man of emergencies, not able or willing to 
borrow more money, determined to coin paper money. The 
mints were put to coining paper money of various kinds and 
denominations. Therefore no war debt was created. These 
greenbacks and 7-30 notes were the money that saved the 
Union and freed the negro. Gold and silver coins ceased to 
circulate Jan. 1, 1862, and did no war service. But, says one, 
the greenbacks and 7-30 notes were a debt. That is utterly 
false; they were not debt except in form. Hon. F. E. Spinner, 
ex-Treasurer, said, August 17, 1876, "In answer, I have to say 
that the 7-30 notes were intended, prepared, issued and used as 
money." 

Our great debt is not a war debt, but an afterthought. Tht 
bonds are the debt, and were issued for class purposes. The 
bond act, the bank act and funding act were special class legis- 
lation to create a national debt; to enslave the poor and to 
make millionaires ; and these acts have accomplished the end 
intended. 

We have no war debt, and never had one that could not 
have been paid off by any United States Treasurer any day he 
wished. 

Not only have the billions paid to bondholders been filched 
from the earnings of labor, but also the tens of billions stolen 
by mortgage foreclosures, vast sums of usury and untold 
amounts, the result of shrinkage of values occasioned by lessen- 
ing the amount of debt-paying money of the country. All these 
pluckings of the poor by the dangerously rich would probably 
aggregate more than one-half of all the present wealth of the 
country. This sum, vast as it is, must be, probably, doubled 
by the loss of earnings of the millions of laborers who have 
been deprived of the privilege of earning anything, and hence 
turned into vagabonds, tramps, and, in vast numbers of cases, 
criminals, by this hellish policy set on foot and forced upon the 
country by traitorous bankers. Shylock is always the same 



SOCIALISM 255 

cruel being. Although it is not nominated in the bond, he does 
not fail to take with his pound of flesh all the blood he can get. 
He is — in the very nature of his calling — a murderer, and when 
the time of reckoning comes it will be apparent to an aston- 
ished world, not only that all his goods are forfeit, but with 
them his life itself, since he has plotted against the life of his 
fellow citizens. 

The judgment of the "great and dreadful day of the Lord," 
now at hand, that shall strip him bare of all his ill-gotten gains 
and reduce him to a level with his plundered victim, will be a 
righteous judgment of the Almighty. Let him not — in his fan- 
cied security, trusting in money which has been his strong 
tower hitherto — imagine such catastrophe is, for him, impos- 
sible ! It would require only the destruction of his god, 
Mammon, to render him a poor, weak, despised and helpless 
thing. Such destruction is just as certain as that there is a 
God who cares for righteousness, and will rescue the poor and 
oppressed out of the hand of the oppressor, bringing in the 
kingdom of righteousness in earth. — O. F. L. 



WHO OWNS THE WEALTH? 

In England one-thirtieth of the people own four-fifths of the 
wealth. 

In Scotland 1,700 persons own nine-tenths of the wealth. 

In Ireland 700 persons own one-half of the land. 

In the United States seventy persons own $3,700,000,000. 

Less than fifty persons control the entire currency and fifteen 
of them can precipitate a panic at any time. 

If a government contracted a debt with a certain amount of 
money in circulation, and then contracted the money volume 
before the debt was paid, it is the most heinous crime that 
a government could commit against the people. — Abraham 
Lincoln. 



256 SOCIALISM 



IT IS TIME. 

In this age when gold is king, 

Sitting on a brazen throne ; 
When 'tis thought the proper thing, 

Rating men by what they own ; 
When the brute is more and more, 

And the spirit less and less ; 
When the world is lorded o'er 

By corruption and excess ; 
It is time that men of worth 

Boldly step into the van, 
With this message to the earth ; 

Down with Mammon, up with Man. 

We have seen the idler feast, 

While the toiler lacked for bread ; 
We have seen the king and priest 

Rob the living and the dead ; 
We have seen the thief arrayed 

In the purple robes of state, 
While the honest man was made 

To beg succor at his gate. 
It has ever been the same, 

Since our human world began. 
Let us stop the sickening game, 

Down with Mammon, up with Man. 

Earth is far too wise and old 

For a lording or a slave ; 
For to heed a band of gold 

On the forehead of a knave ; 
Far too old for war and hate ; 

Old enough for brotherhood ; 
Wise enough to found a state, 

Where men seek each other's good. 
We have followed self too long. 

Let us try a better plan ; 
Keep the right, subdue the wrong. 

Down with Mammon, up with Man. 



SOCIALISM 257 

Many of the brightest, best, 

Of the earth, were counted poor. 
Some possessed not where to rest ; 

Others toil and hardships bore. 
Homer, at the dawn of Greece, 

Sung and begged from day to day. 
Buddha, born with palaces, 

Flung as baubles all away. 
Wealth is by the devil prized. 

God has cursed it with a ban. 
Let us hear the pauper, Christ. 

Down with Mammon, up with Man. 

O, my people, will you heed ? 

Be no more like beasts of prey. 
Turn from selfishness and greed. 

Let us find a nobler way. 
From the worn out lies of old, 

Let us make the whole world free. 
Down w T ith kings and priests and gold ; 

Up with God, Humanity. 
We are tired of hate and crime, 

Let us crush them while we can. 
Let us hail the better time. 

Down with Mammon, up with Man. 

— J. A. Edge}' ton. 



CHARLES MARTEL. 

When the Turks in wild advance 
Swarmed upon the land of France, 
Then, like Scandinavian Thor, 
Charles of France arose to war! 

And aloft in the battling van, 
Swung the emblem of a man — 
Lifting over falchion's edge, 
Labor's sign — his iron sledge ! 

Then, while Europe paused aghast, 

Fiercely into war he cast 

Iron of manhood, wielded well ; 

So they called him — Charles Martel 



258 SOCIALISM 

Charles the Hammer! Back from him 
Crescent waned, in shadows dim; 
Back from Europe's rescued soul — 
Shattered by that Cross of Toil ! 

Iron of Manhood ! Labor's Cross ! 
Lift it still o'er golden dross ! 
Lift it still, in battling van — 
Emblems of enfranchised Man ! 

For, for while arm of flesh can wield — 
Labor's sledge, in forge or field, — 
Labor's sledge at forge or bench 
Chains from Manhood it shall wrench ! 

Never a right was ever wrought, 
Never a wrong was ever fought, 
Never a blow for mankind fell, 
Save through Hammer wielded well! 

And if here, on Freedom's soil, 
Men would wield their Sign of Toil — 
Wield it over golden dross, 
Wield it — as their Iron Cross. 

— Col. A.J. Dauganne in N. Y. Advocate. 

A NOTABLE SERMON. 

On the fifteenth of December Rev. Myron Reed preached to 
his congregation in Denver, on " Socialism," choosing for his 
text : Revelation xxi : 1, " And I saw a new Heaven and a new 
Earth." 

All the prophets and poets have seen the same thing. 
Isaiah looked forward to an utter change of the face of the earth 
and the hearts of the people of the earth. 

Robert Burns saw a new earth, and so did Alfred Tennyson 
when he was young. Plato looked away from the decaying 
world around him and saw Atlantis. Sir Thomas Moore, about 
to suffer death, was writing " Eutopia." 

There ought to be a new earth, and what ought to be will be. 
No one will assert that this is the ideal social system — this one 



SOCIALISM 2 59 

that we are living under. Isaiah would not be satisfied with it, 
nor Plato. We are not satisfied with it. It is a makeshift. 

We have been sending money and sympathy to Ireland, and 
that was right and effective. Home rule is in sight. But in 
1890 there were more than 23,000 evictions in New York. 
That means more than 100,000 people turned out of doors. 
That is to say in one American city the evictions as compared 
with Ireland were more then four to one. 

More than 300,000 people exist on one square mile of the 
city of New York. The east end of New York makes the east 
end of London look thinly inhabited. 

What a summer we had. War up in Idaho and Wyoming, 
and down in Tennessee, and at Buffalo and Homestead. These 
little wars cost millions. Nothing was settled by them. Lock- 
outs and strikes will continue. It is no wonder that we hear 
prophets and poets saying, " I see a new Heaven and a new 
earth." They are very much needed. 

I see they are driving a certain class of women out of Pitts- 
burg. Where to ? What sense in this persecution ? It is as 
useless as it is cruel. 

The question of woman's wages is a moral question. Well- 
ington reproved a soldier for some fault and the soldier 
reminded the great captain that "You can not hire all the car- 
dinal virtues for seven dollars a month." 

Poverty and ignorance get together and crime is born. 

But I need not tell you that this social order is not to be 
admired. 

A socialist desires something better. He may think that a 
new earth will come in by persuasion. He thinks it will come 
in. Surely this state of things we are familiar with is not per- 
manent. There is much righteous discontent. It makes itself 
felt by speeches and newspapers and books. There is a litera- 
ture of discontent. If you read Hamlin Garland's stories of 
the West you realize their absolute photographic truth. One 
rises up saying they are too true. " Caesar's Column" is a 
powerful book. Men have learned by "Uncle Tom's Cabin " 



26o SOCIALISM 

that there is nothing so persuasive as a story, and modern 
novels are full of the social questions of the day. They are 
sold by the ton. 

The Arena Magazine has gone quickly almost to the front 
because it recognizes the signs of the times. The word social- 
ist does not scare anybody now. We find that often he is an 
amiable gentleman who would like to hear of less suicide, less 
extortion, less eviction, less greed, and less blood. He lifts up 
his eyes and sees a new earth. " Looking Backward " is a 
book that is bought and borrowed a good deal. 



I HAVE COME. 

I have come, and the world shall be shaken 

Like a reed, at the touch of my rod, 
And the kingdoms of time shall awaken 

To the voice and the summons of God. 
No more through the din of the ages 

Shall warnings and chidings divine, 
From the lips of my prophets and sages 

Be trampled like pearls before swine. 

Ye have stolen my lands and my cattle ; 

Ye have kept back from labor its meed ; 
Ye have challenged the outcast to battle 

When they plead at your feet in their need; 
And when clamors of hunger grew louder, 

And the multitudes prayed to be fed, 
Ye have answered with prisons and powder 

The cries of your brothers for bread. 

I turn from your altars and arches, 

And the mocking of steeples and domes, 
To join in the long, weary marches 

Of the ones ye have robbed of their homes. 
I share in the sorrows and crosses 

Of the naked, the hungry and cold, 
And dearer to me are their losses 

Than your gains and your idols of gold. 



SOCIALISM 26.I 

I will wither the might of the spoiler, 

I will laugh at your dungeons and locks ; 
The tyrant shall yield to the toiler, 

And your judges eat grass like the ox, 
For the prayers of the poor have ascended 

To be written in lightnings on high, 
And the wails of your captives have blended 

With the bolts that must leap from the sky. 

The thrones of your kings shall be shattered, 

And the prisoner and serf shall go free ; 
I will harvest from seed that I scattered 

On the borders of blue Galilee. 
For I come not alone and a stranger — 

Lo ! my reapers will sing through the night 
Till the star that stood over the manager 

Shall cover the world with its light. 

James G. Clark. 

"The first result of the invention of machinery has been to 
increase the wealth of the few. The hope of the world is that 
through invention man can finally take such advantages of 
these forces of nature, of the weight of water, of the force of 
mind, of steam, of electricity, that they will do the work of the 
world ; and it is the hope of the really civilized that these 
inventions will finally cease to be the property of the few, to 
the end that they may do the work for all. When those who 
do the work on the machines, when those who toil control the 
inventions, then and not till then can the world be civilized or 
free. When these forces shall do the bidding of the individual, 
when they become the property of the mechanic instead of the 
monopolist, when they belong to labor instead of what is called 
capital, when these great powers are as free to the individual 
laborer as the air and light are now free to all, then, and not 
until then, the individual will be restored and all forms of 
slavery will disappear." — Robert G. Ingersoll. 

I was asked, "When did you become a Socialist ? " " When 
I first read the Sermon delivered on the Mount," was my reply. 



262 SOCIALISM 

"And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked 
for their iniquity, and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud 
to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible. 

"I will make a man more precious than fine gold; even a 
man than the golden wedge of Ophir." Isaiah 13 : 1 1-12. 

That time has not yet arrived, but it will ; I can see its dawn 
even now, and socialism is the means, politically, to help bring 
it about. The law of evolution has, and is, forcing it upon the 
world, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it. The 
fall of Babylon the Great is none other than this competitive 
system that we are now living under, and it is based upon the 
lowest animal instincts of our nature, whose language is, " Look 
out for yourself and the devil take the hindmost." So long as 
that system adheres, so long will men be slaves, for man is not 
looked upon as the image of God and respected as such, but 
instead is respected, or at least pretended to be, because of his 
wealth or attainments and environments, and not because of 
his possibilities that some time in the great future will be 
developed because he is made but little lower than the angels, 
possessing all the possibilities of the highest archangel. I 
know of no greater basis for the recognition and respect of 
my fellow men than this, that we are the sons of and made in 
the image of our great and all-wise Creator, and consequently 
cannot, or should not, be enslaved by poverty. Therefore, the 
means of production should not be in possession of the rich 
and the few. So long as they are, just so long will the masses 
be enslaved, for he who own my job owns my bread, and he 
who owns my bread owns me. 

The late Horace Mann, in an address before the Boston 
Library Association fifty years ago, said : " I may as well be 
dependent for my head as for my bread. The time is sure to 
come when men will look back upon the prerogative of capital, 
with as just and severe condemnation, as we now look back on 
the predatory chieftains of the dark ages." 



SOCIALISM 263 

WE HAVE NO TIME. 

We have no time to " hem " and " haw," 
We have no time to pray; 
We have no time to mope and moan, 
We've work to do to-day. 

We have no time to choose our words, 
No time to laugh and play ; 
We needs must get our armor on, 
There's work to do to-day. 

Let cowards slink to caves unknown, 
And traitor -curs betray, 
But we will fight both day and night 
To keep the " wolves " at bay. 

We have no time for useless gems 
Or broadcloth to display, 
Let fools bow down to fashion's gods, 
But let us work to-day. 

The call resounds through every land, 
Up, Comrades, and obey ! 
The fight is won if every son 
Will do his best to-day ! 

— Samuel King. 

Socialism means that all those things upon which the people 
in common depend shall by the people in common be owned 
and administered. It means that the tools of employment shall 
belong to their creators and users ; that all production shall be 
for the direct use of the producers ; that the making of goods 
for profit shall come to an end ; that we shall all be workers 
together and that all opportunities shall be open and equal to 
all men. 

SOCIALIST CITY PLATFORM. 

The Socialist Party of Portland, reaffirms its allegiance to 
the principles of the National and International Socialist 
Movement. 



264 SOCIALISM 

We declare our object to be the establishment of a system of 
industry, under which the people shall own the means of pro- 
duction and distribution, and operate them for the benefit of 
all ; so that all production shall be for the use of the people, 
that the making of commodities for profit shall come to an end, 
that we all may be workers together and that all opportunities 
shall be open and equal to all mankind. 

We indite the present economic system because it is bad 
economically, morally and politically. 

We, therefore, demand the public ownership of the water 
works, electric railroads, gas and electric lighting, fuel yards and 
all other public utilities. 

These shall be run in the interest of the whole people and 
under a just system of civil service, so that employees cannot be 
discharged arbitrarily, as is now done under private ownership, 
looking first to the interest of the working class. 

We demand a secret ballot which will relieve voters from 
corporation and political spies. 

We also demand as follows : 

An eight-hour day on public work ; and the abolition of 
contract work. 

Provision . shall be made for the employment of the unem- 
ployed. 

School rooms shall be utilized evenings for lectures and 
other educational purposes. 

Socialism is simply applied Christianity, the Golden Rule 
applied to every day life. — Prof. Richard T. Ely. 

Socialism is a theory of society that advocates a more pre- 
cise, orderly, and harmonious arrangement of the social relations 
of mankind than that which has hitherto prevailed. — Webster's 
Dictionary. 

Public schools, streets, the post office, the fire department, 
police department, light-house service, etc., are all examples of 
industries publicly operated, every citizen gets the same service 



SOCIALISM 265 

and it works harm to no one. Under Socialism all industries 
which supply the needs of all the people would be publicly 
operated, and better service would result to all. 

Socialism appeals to the reason and advocates the greatest 
good to all. 

In other political parties the candidates ask you to vote for 
them so that they can get the benefits to be derived from hold- 
ing the office, the socialists ask you to vote their "ticket" in 
order that a principle may be carried out, that the public may 
be benefited instead of private parties. 

Graft always comes from some privately owned industry try- 
ing to secure the right to make profit out of the public. 

Socialists believe that everyone should have the full product 
of their toil, if a man would not work he could have what he 
produced also, and no one would object. 

There are hundreds of thousands of people out of employ- 
ment in the United States. Every combination of capital 
throws out still more, it may be your turn next. Socialism 
guarantees employment to all. If necessary or advisable the 
hours of labor would be reduced ; but all will have an oppor- 
tunity to work. 

THE EPISCOPAL ARCHBISHOP OF NEW YORK. 

The recent pastoral letter of Bishop Potter, of New York, 
on the labor troubles, has attracted universal attention. New 
York is justly proud of Bishop Potter. Pie is just fifty-one 
years of age, was ordained a priest at the age of twenty-three, 
and was consecrated bishop in 1883. He was formerly rector 
of Grace church. Of his letter the New York Sun says : 

It is Dr. Potter's firm conviction and deliberate affirmance 
that society must be reorganized until it reflects the lessons of 
the Sermon on the Mount far more faithfully than now. He 



266 SOCIALISM 

recognizes and declares that this cannot be done by almsgiving. 
He tells the representatives of organized capital that the funda- 
mental doctrines of their political economy have been tested by 
the touchstone of Christ's teachings and found wanting, and 
that their vaunted principle of supply and demand must be 
radically modified before its relentless gyves are immovably 
fastened upon the lives and hopes of men. 

But for the fundamental change in the relations of employers 
and employed, which he pronounces indispensable to the safety 
of the state. 

Dr. Potter would recall the pulpit to its duty and all public 
teachers to their mission ; he would set in motion every influ- 
ence by which opinion can be leavened through and through 
with that spirit of all penetrating benignity and brotherhood 
which ought to animate every honest follower of Christ, With 
public opinion thus inspired, no revolution would be needed to 
bring about a welcome change in the direction of equality in 
agrarian, economical and social conditions. Legislation would 
speedily obey the impulse of sympathy and kindness. 

HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. 

In the opening prayer in the House of Representatives the 
chaplain besought the Lord to enable the educated and intelli- 
gent men and women of the land to comprehend that in this 
republican country there could be no privileged class, and in 
this democratic age no aristocracy could be founded and built 
of the fabled blood of Norman, Guelph or Ghibelline, on titles 
to gold or lands or stock, on. power of public office or private 
corporation, but that our best society must be the growth of 
sound brains, informed by wide instruction on good hearts and 
loving, fervently bending with reverence toward God and love 
to man, and with supreme devotion to noble uses, sweet and 
generous behavior, learned not from the dancing master, nor in 
courts of princes, but in the school of self reliance, wills braced 
to heroic endeavor and endurance, capable of sacrifice of self 



SOCIALISM 267 

for the common weal, the wants and the woes of others. He 
prayed that God might forbid the rich and prosperous from 
attempting to import and reproduce on our new soil the pomps 
and shows, the folly and fashions, the luxury and pride, of other 
climes lest the giant anarchy, blind through ignorance and rage, 
like sightless Samson be goaded to madness by oppression. 

The New York Sun calls attention to the fact that thus far 
over 9,000 bills had been introduced into Congress during the 
present session. Most of these are pure " crank " measures 
which have no possible chance of ever becoming law. They 
are not introduced for any such purpose, and probably the men 
who introduce them would be horrified if they discovered any 
prospect that they would be passed. They are introduced 
generally for the purpose of satisfying- some crack-brain constit- 
uents whose support may be useful in the next election. 

SOCIALISM IS NOT COMMUNISM. 

At the regular semi-monthly meeting of the Socialists held 
in Chicago, April 12, the following resolution was offered by 
one of the members, and after a very heated debate was finally 
adopted : 

Resolved, That as in the United States government is but the 
reflex of the intelligence and morality of the people, it is wrong 
and useless to advocate or attempt its destruction by force, and 
that, so long as men are free to speak and write, to organize 
and vote, we will not countenance other than the peaceful 
agitation of our ideas ; and as modern Socialism is not Com- 
munism, and is emphatically opposed to Anarchism, we earn- 
estly protest against the indiscriminate use of these names as 
interchangeable terms by public speakers and writers. 

TORCH-BEARERS OF REVOLUTION. 

Has it ever struck the rich that they are the dangerous class ? 
If their excesses and base displays of wealth tempt the desti- 
tute, if their hands lie like burdens upon the oppressed, if they 



205 SOCIALISM 

are forgetful of the obligations of property and ever thinking of 
its rights, if they combine to best the laborer in his struggle 
for bread for his little ones, if they flaunt their flags of ease and 
luxury in the faces of poverty and hunger, they are but the 
torch-bearers of revolution. 

Louis XIV, with his tyranny, and Louis XV, with his luxury, 
and Versailles and Mine, de Pompadour, and Mme. du Barry 
and the Oeil de Roeuf and the languid infamies of the Ancien 
Regime were the causes of the French Revolution, and the 
privileged monopolies of this time are guilty before God and 
men for not a little of the violence now epidemic. 

Associated with the cause of crime is one more prolific and 
direct, one in which we bargain with God for gold and pander, 
for money, to envy, hatred, malice and lust. Everywhere the 
animalism of brutal passions still crowds our streets with the 
infamies of its victims and the wretchedness which dogs its 
heels. Still, when a newspaper lights this evil it is denounced 
as "yellow," and when a preacher lifts his voice against it he is 
scored as " red," and both are spit upon by alleged philosophy, 
and spurned by so-called intellect, and insulted with shameful 
lies. 

ON TO VICTORY. 

Oh, sons of Columbia, rise in your might, 
Enroll with the banner of justice and right, 
And freedom, your heritage, sacredly guard; 
The ballot is mightier far than the sword. 

As of old the knight -errant in panoplied steel 
Rode forth from his castle with boldin and shield, 
With waving of pennon, and lance in the rest, 
To succor the weak and avenge the distressed, — 

So now, let us put on the armor of right, 

The breast-plate of justice, the boldin of light, 

And go forth to protect, not the Trusts that command, 

But the workman, the toiler, the tiller of land. 



SOCIALISM 269 

Through all our road land, from the east to the west 
Our cohorts shall gather, our wrongs to redress 
And in strength our union, our banner uphold 
And march on to victory under its fold. 

Mrs. R. Bishop. 



Great teachers really do not teach us anything — in their 
presence we simply become different people. 



AS TO SCIENCE AND WHAT IS BEST FOR 
HUMAN GOOD. 

It was not so very long ago that the profession of teaching 
was entirely in the hands of the theologians. All things, secular 
and sacred, that were taught to young or old were taught by 
priests. Priests decided what books should be printed and 
what not. The priest decided as to what should be taught, 
and how it should be taught, and beyond him there was no 
appeal. 

Instead of refuting natural science by natural science, theol- 
ogy sought to silence science by citing Scripture. 

Galileo, writing in 1610, complains because the theologians 
would not so much as look through his telescope to see that 
the earth revolved, under serious penalty. The works of Galileo 
and Copernicus were forbidden to all good Catholics, and were 
upon the Index for over two hundred and fifty years, or until 
1836. For teaching the truths of natural science Bruno was 
burned alive, and his ashes scattered to the four winds. 

The policy of every formal religion has always been to allow 
the fullest play possible to individuality, and yet not risk the 
life of the institution. The institution being the important 
thing — the individual, secondary. 



27O SOCIALISM 

WILLIAM H. VANDERBILT ONCE SAID, THE 
PUBLIC BE DAMNED. 

When Public Bedamned surrendered, 

Like other mortals, and died, 
Ten millions to each of his children 
$10,000,000. 

He left, and millions beside! 
Oh ! careless and thoughtless mortals, 

Can any of you declare 
How many millions were paupered 

To make this millionaire ? 

Can you tell how much of the burden 

The laborers have to bear 
To pay the annual interest 

On each of the children's share ? 
At four per cent per annum, 

The interest every year, 
On each ten million of dollars, 

Is four hundred thousand clear. 
$400,000. 

Thus unto Bedamned's eight children 

Ten times this sum would fall 
Each year, or just three millions 

Two hundred thousand in all! 
$3,200,000. 

Divide the wealth of the nation 

Up into ten million shares, 
How many would have ten millions 

If they were the nation's heirs ? 

Our wealth is about sixty billions ; 
$60,000,000,000. 

Ten millions into each soul, 
And only six thousand people 
6,000. 

Would gather in the whole ; 
And fifty -nine million nine hundred 
And ninety-four thousand slaves, 
59,994,000. 

Of our sixty millions of people, 
Would not own even their graves ! 



SOCIALISM 271 



Yet Public Bedamned had his millions 
One hundred and ninety or o'er, 
$190,000,000. 

And yearly he drew from the toilers 
Not far from ten millions or more ; 

Counting wages per year at five hundred, 

$5 00 - 

Then into his coffers were crammed 
The wages of full twenty thousand 
20,000. 

To keep old Public Bedamned ! 

Three hundred and sixteen persons, 
316. 

Each owning as much as he, 
Would monopolize every farthing 

Of the nation's property! 
The rest of our sixty millions 
59,999,684. 

Would all be underlings, 
Consenting to live in bondage 

To these few money kings ! 

We have twelve million families ; 
One hundred and ninety to each, 
$190,000,000. 

Two thousand two hundred and eighty 
Trillions the sum would reach ! 
$2 ,280,000,000,000,000. 

Divide our sixty billions 

Among our families free, 
And only five thousand dollars 
$5,000. 

Would fall to each family. 

The man who owns but a million 
$1, 000,000. 

Is rated as only fair ! 
Yet only sixty thousand 
60,000. 

Could each have a million share — 
The sum which two hundred households 
200. 



72 SOCIALISM 

Must yield, if he controls, 
Or the individual portions 
Of full one thousand souls ! 

1,000. 

Oh! citizens — sisters and brothers — 

Can none of you see the wrong 
Imposed on you and your children 

By Mammon's usurious throng! 
If not, then good-by to your manhood — 

Your much-boasted freedom, good-by ! 
To the scattering winds throw your ballots- 

You're not fit to live or to die ! 



THE PRAYERS I USED IN LIFE. 

With these four prayers I got along very well, without mak- 
ing up any of my own : 

THE LORD'S PRAYER. 

Our Father, which art in heaven, hallowed be Thy name, Thy 
kingdom come, Thy will be done in earth as it is in heaven. 
Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts as 
we forgive our debtors, and lead us not into temptation, but 
deliver us from evil, for thine is the kingdom, and the power, 
and the glory, for ever, Amen. 

MONTGOMERY'S DEFINITION OF PRAYER. 

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire 

Unuttered, or expressed. 
The motion of a hiddened fire 

That trembles in the breast. 

Prayer is the heaving of a sigh, 

The falling of a tear, 
The upward glancing of an eye 

When none but God is near. 

ALEXANDER POPE'S PRAYER. 

Father of all in every age, 

In every clime adored, 
By saint, by savage, or by sage, 

Jehovah, Jove, or Lord. 

Thou great first cause, least understood, 

Who all my sense confine, 
To know but this, that thou art good, 

And I myself am blind. 



274 PRAYERS 

Lead me through this dark estate, 

To know the good from ill, 
Binding all nature fast in fate, 

Left free the human will. 

Mean though I am, not wholly so, 
Since quickened by thy breath 

Lead me, wheresoe'er I go, 

Through this day, life or death. 

Let not this weak, presuming hand, 

Thy thunderbolts to throw 
And deal damnation through the land, 

In each I judge a foe. 

This day be meat and peace my lot, 

All else beneath the sun 
Thou knowest whether best bestowed or not, 

And let Thy will be done. 

Give me to feel another's woe, 

To hide the fault I see ; 
That mercy I to others show, 

That mercy show to me. 



BYRON'S PRAYER OF NATURE. 



Father of Light, on thee I call, 

Thou seest my soul is dark within ; 
Thou who doth mark the sparrow's fall, 

Avert from me the death of sin. 

No shrine I seek of sect unknown — 

Oh, point me to the path of truth. 
Thy dread Omnipotence I own, 

Spare yet amend the faults of youth. 

Shall man confine his Maker's sway 
To Gothic domes of smouldering stone, 

Thy temple is the face of day 

Earth, Ocean, Heaven, Thy Boundless Throne. 



PRAYERS 275 

GEORGE JACOB HOLYOKE'S PRAYER. 

If, in that illimitable and coherent mystery which we call the 
Universe, there bendeth a listening ear to creatures who pre- 
sume to speak, we ask chiefly that there may be given unto us 
reticence and modesty. 

We pray not for the rich, who have more means of happiness 
than belong to them ; nor for the powerful, who have more 
resources for doing good than they use. We exclaim, with the 
great Persian Sadi : "O God, have mercy on the wicked, for 
thou hast done everything for the good in making them good. 
We pray that sense be given to the poor, who are poor because 
they want sense. We pray not merely for the poor of this land 
where we speak, but for the poor of every country, for the 
barbarian of every clime, for the slave who is in bonds and the 
slaves who are free." 

Teach civilized and cultivated men to understand that God 
is at least a gentleman whose lofty generosity is above incom- 
petent praise, and shrinks from the weariness of interminable 
pauper thanks ; and, above all, teach the people that they dwell 
in a self-acting universe, and that its conjectured author can 
derive no honor save in beholding a self-helping, independent 
and gladsome world. O Nature, thou art more intelligent than 
any church, more merciful than any creed, more joyous than 
any psalm ! Deserting the awful impostures of superstition and 
terror, let the plain people learn to trust, and know that there 
can be no glory to any good save in the happiness of his crea- 
tures, human and otherwise. Give to the people ambition 
without vanity; give them purposes which they know to be 
compatible with the good of others; give them the love of 
politics apart from peculation ; enable them to see that freedom 
is not outrage. Above all, endow them with the grandest 
charm of equality, quietness, courtesy, and deference to each 
other. 

The truths of Nature come into view like the distant stars 
filling the night of the world with new wond-er and new light. 



276 PRAYERS 

Truth bubbles like the gracious fountain which dances in desert 
and glade, that man, parched by error, may be allured to its 
joyous streams, and into their hearts that they may grow in 
virtue and happiness. 



CHAPLAIN'S PRAYER. 

In the House of Representatives, this morning, quite a sen- 
sation was produced when the chaplain devoted his opening 
prayer to an invocation to God to rid the land of gamesters, 
whether in cards, dice, chips, stocks, wheat, bucket shops, or 
boards of trade, to lead the people to know that money making 
other than by the sweat of the face was contrary to his laws. 

On motion of Mr. Butterworth of Ohio, seconded by Mr. 
Weaver of Iowa, the prayer was ordered to be inserted in the 
record. March 22, 1886. 



SHORT STORIES. 

In Vermont there once lived an old shoemaker. He was a 
very devout man, widely known for his brusque speech and 
manners. " But as for the pure his work was right." Prov. 
21 : 8. He believed that all men were created free and equal, 
as the Declaration of Independence declares ; he also believed 
that all labor was respectable and laborers should be respected 
and the working man treated as well as any one else. He was 
a Methodist of the old school. One day the minister, who had 
just been appointed to preach in the place, called upon him. 
He had never seen " Old Uncle Jake," as he was called by all. 
The minister introduced himself and said, "I have heard of you 
for a long time, and I desired to meet you. I have heard of 
your great piety and the noble work you have done in the 
church, and have called upon you — the first call I have made 
on any one of the members of the church — and notwithstanding 
your humble vocation I have made my first call upon you." 

" My humble vocation ! What do you mean by my humble 
vocation ? Do you call it a humble vocation to make shoes for 
Jesus ? Do you see those shoes hanging up there ? I made 
them for Jesus. A few days ago I saw a poor, sick little girl 
going by in the rain and slush, with shoes all worn out and her 
feet upon the cold ground. She was coughing, and I said to 
myself, 'Poor child, she is about gone with that fatal New 
England scourge, consumption.' So I thought I would make 
those shoes and give them to her. That other pair hanging up 
there I shall give to a little destitute boy, a cripple, who went 
by a few days ago with his bare feet on the cold and icy ground. 
I hope and trust that I shall see those shoes hung upon the 
walls of Paradise, if I ever reach there, and I hope the record- 
ing angel will say unto me, ' Jake, did you make those shoes ? ' 
and then I can hold up my head and say, ' I did.' And I trust 
that I shall see beside them hung up there on the wall of the 



278 SHORT STORIES 

holy city one of your grand sermons, and notwithstanding your 
great vocation I hope you will not forget you were once a 
mortal.'' 



POPE LEO XIII. 

Pope Leo XIII, one of, if not the wisest man who ever sat 
in the papal chair, once wrote : " The real enemies of the 
Church have been those over-zealous churchmen who have 
sought to stamp out error by violence, forgetful that man is 
little and our God is great, and that in His wisdom the Father 
of all has provided that evil left alone shall soon exhaust itself, 
and right, of itself, will surely prevail. Impatient defence of 
our holy religion springs from limitation and lack of faith. 
Against its avowed enemies the church stands secure, but 
against those who are quick to draw the sword and strike off 
the ear of Malchus we are often powerless. If the servants of 
the church had ever taught by example, through love and 
patience, even now the reign of our God would be universal as 
the flowers of spring carpet the gentle hillside slopes." 



For modes of faith let graceless bigots fight, 
His can't be wrong whose life is in the right. 
O, blind to truth and God's great scheme below, 
To fancy joy from vice, or virtue, woe. 

— Alexander Pope. 



I have been my own prophet, priest and king; that is, I have 
done my own prophesying and preaching, and have tried to be 
king enough to rule my own spirit, for " he that is slow to anger 
is better than the mighty ; and he that ruleth his spirit than he 
that taketh a city." Prov. 16 : 32. 



SHORT STORIES 279 

THE OLD SHIP OF STATE. 

PARODY BY JOHN M. TODD. 

Over the dark and the gloomy horizon that bounds her, 
Thro' the storm and the night and the hell that surrounds her, 
I can see with a faith which immortals have given, 
Burning words, blazing out o'er the portals of heaven, 

She will live ! 

But a part of the freight the old shylocks gave her, 
We must cast to the deep yawning waters to save her, 
'Tis the untaxed bonds we must pay them to right her, 
'Tis the worship of gold we must yield up to right her, 

She will live ! 

Clean the decks of the curse — if opposed by the owner, 
Hurl the wretch to the wave, as they hurled over Jonah. 
With " Justice to all " gleaming forth from our banner, 
Let the tyrant yet learn we have freemen to man her. 

She will live ! 

She will live while a billow is swelling before her, 
She will live while the blue arch of heaven bends o'er her, 
While the name of a Christ to the fallen we cherish, 
Till the hopes in the breast of humanity perish, 

She will live ! 



MEMORY'S RIVER. 

In nature's bright blossoms not always reposes 

That strange subtle essence more rare than their bloom, 
Which lies in the hearts of carnations and roses, 

That unexplained something by men called perfume. 
Though modest the flower, yet great is its power 

And pregnant with meaning each pistil and leaf; 
If only it hides there, if only abides there 

The fragrance suggestive of love, joy and grief. 

Not always the air that a master composes 

Can stir human heart-strings with pleasure or pain ; 

But strange subtle chords like the scent of the roses 

Breathe out of some measures, though simple the strain. 



280 SHORT STORIES 

And lo ! when you hear them, you love them and fear them; 

You tremble with anguish, you thrill with delight, 
For back of them slumber old dreams without number, 

And faces long vanished peer out into sight. 

Those dear, foolish days, when the earth seemed all beauty, 

Before you had knowledge enough to be sad, 
When youth held no higher ideal of duty 

Than just to tilt on through the world and be glad. 
On harmony's river they seemed to float hither 

With all the sweet fancies that hung round that time ; 
Life's burdens and troubles turn into air bubbles, 

And break on the music's sweet current of rhyme. 

Fair folly comes back with her spell while you listen, 

And points to the paths where she led you of old; 
You gaze on past sunsets, you see dead stars glisten, 

You bathe in life's glory, you swoon in death's cold, 
All pain and all pleasure surge up through those measures, 

Your heart is wrenched open with earthquakes of sound ; 
From ashes and embers rise Junes and Decembers — 

Lost islands in fathoms of feeling refound. 

Some airs are like outlets of memory's oceans, 

They rise in the past and flow into the heart ; 
And down them float shipwrecks of mighty emotions, 

All sea-soaked and storm-tossed and drifting apart. 
Their fair timbers battered, their lordly sails tattered, 

Their skeleton crew of dead days on their decks, 
Then a crash of chords blending, a crisis, an ending — 

The music is over and vanished the wrecks. 

— Ella Wheeler Wilcox. 

THE BATTLE HYMN OF THE REPUBLIC. 

Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord ; 
He is tramping out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored 
He has loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword; 
His truth is marching on. 

I have seen Him in the watch fires of a hundred circling camps ; 

They have builded Him an altar in the evening dews and damps ; 

I have read His righteous sentence by the dim and flaring lamps ; 

His day is marching on. 



SHORT STORIES 28 1 

I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel — 
" As you deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall deal ; " 
Let the hero, born of woman, crush the serpent with his heel, 
Since God is marching on. 

He has sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat ; 
He is sifting out the hearts of men before His judgment seat, 
Oh ! Be swift, my soul to answer Him ! Be jubilant, my feet ! 
Our God is marching on. 

In the beauty of the lilies Christ was born across the sea, 
With a glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me ; 
As He died to make men holy, let us die to make men free, 
While God is marching on. 

— Julia Ward Howe. 



THE CONSCIENCE AND FUTURE JUDGMENT. 

I sat alone with my conscience, 

In a place where time had ceased, 
And we talked of my former living ■ 

In the land where the years increased. 
And I felt I should have to answer 

The question it put to me, 
And to face the answer and question 

Throughout an eternity. 
The ghosts of forgotten actions 

Came floating before my sight, 
And things that I thought were dead things 

Were alive with a terrible might. 
And the vision of all my past life 

Was an awful thing to face, — 
Alone with my conscience sitting 

In that solemnly silent place. 
And I thought of a far-away warning, 

Of a sorrow that was to be mine, 
In a land that then was the future, 

But now is the present time. 
And I thought of my former thinking 

Of the judgment day to be, 
But sitting alone with my conscience 

Seemed judgment enough for me. 



282 SHORT STORIES 

And I wondered if there was a future 

To this land beyond the grave ; 
But no one gave me an answer, 

And no one came to save. 
Then I felt that the future was present, 

And the present would never go by, 
For it was but the thought of my past life 

Grown into eternity. 
Then I woke from my timely dreaming, 

And the vision passed away, 
And I knew the far-away warning 

Was a warning of yesterday, — 
And I pray that I may not forget it, 

In this land before the grave, 
That I may not cry in the future, 

And no one come to save. 
And so I have learnt a lesson 

Which I ought to have known before 
And which, though I learnt it dreaming, 

I hope to forget no more. 
So I sit alone with my conscience 

In the place where the years increase, 
And I try to remember the future 

In the land where time will cease. 
And I know of the future judgment, 

How dreadful soe'er it be, 
That to sit alone with my conscience 

Will be judgment enough for me. 

— Spectator. 

IF CHRIST SHOULD COME TO-DAY. 

Where would the mighty millions stand, 

If Christ should come to-day ; 
What wails would echo through the land, 

If Christ should come to-day ; 
How very few would be prepared, 
How many millions be ensnared, 
Who " Peace and Safety" have declared, 
If Christ should come to-day ? 

How would the hypocrites despair, 
If Christ should come to-day ; 



SHORT STORIES 283 

What would they utter for a prayer, 

If Christ should come to-day; 
How quickly fall their thin disguise, 
How dark appear their countless lies, 
O ! what a terrible surprise, 

If Christ should come to-day ! 

Would you, professing friend, rejoice, 

If Christ should come to-day ; 
Would you be glad to hear his voice, 

If Christ should come to-day ; 
What have you done that you could tell, 
That you have served your Maker well, 
Would you escape the flames of hell, 

If Christ should come to-day ? 



FROM THE EARTH, A CRY. 

Can the earth have a voice ? Can the clods have speech 

To murmur and rail at the demigods ? 

Trample them ! Grind their vulgar faces in the clay ! 

The earth was made for lords and the makers of law ; 

For the conquerors and the social priests ; 

For traders who feed on and foster the complex life; 

For the shrewd and the selfish who plan and keep ; 

For the heirs who squander the hoard that bears 

The face of the King, and the blood of the serf, and the curse 

Of the darkened souls ! 

O Christ ! and O Christ ! In Thy name the law ! 

In Thy mouth the mandate ! In Thy loving hand the whip ! 

They have taken Thee down from Thy cross and sent Thee to scourge the 

people ; 
They have shod Thy feet with spikes and jointed Thy dead knees with iron, 
And pushed Thee, hiding behind, to trample the poor dumb faces ! 

The spheres make music in space. They swing 

Like fiery cherubim on their paths, circling their suns, 

Mysterious, weaving the irrevealable, 

Full of the peace of unity — sphere and its life at one — 

Humming their lives of love thro' the limitless waste of creation. 

God! Thou hast made man a test of Thyself ! 

Thou hast set in him a heart that bleeds at the cry of the helpless ; 



284 SHORT STORIES 

Through Thine infinite seas one world rolls silent, 

Moaning at times with quivers and fissures of blood; 

Divided, unhappy, accursed ; the lower life good, 

But the higher life wasted and split, like grain with a cankered root. 

Is there health in Thy gift of life, Almighty ? 

Is there grief or compassion anywhere for the poor? 

If there be, there is guerdon for those who hate the wrong 

And leap naked on the spears, that blood may cry 

For truth to come, and pity, and Thy peace. 

The human sea is frozen like a swamp ; and the Kings 

And the heirs and the owners ride on the ice and laugh, 

Their war forces, orders and laws are the crusted field of a crater, 

And they stamp on the fearful rind, deriding its flesh -like shudder. 

Lightning! the air is split, the crater bursts, and the breathing 

Of those below is the fume and fire of hatred. 

The thrones are stayed with the courage of shotted guns. The warning dies. 

But the queens are dragged to the block, and the knife of the guillotine sinks 

In the garbage of pampered flesh that gluts its bed and its hinges. 

Silence again, and sunshine. The gaping lips are closed on the crater, 
The dead are below, and the landless, and those who live to labor 
And grind forever in gloom, that the privileged few may live. 

But the silence is sullen, not restful. It heaves like a sea, and frets, 

And beats at the roof till it finds another vent for its fury. 

Again the valve is burst, and the pitch cloud rushes — the old seam bursts 

anew — 
Where the Kings were killed before, their names are hewed from the 

granite — 
Paris, mad hope of the slave-shops, flames to the petroleuse ! 
Tiger that tasted blood ! — Paris that tasted freedom 1 
Never, while steel is cheap and sharp, shall thy Kinglings sleep without 

dreaming — 
Never, while souls have flame, shall their palaces crush the hovels. 

Insects and vermin, ye, the starving and dangerous myriads, 

List to the murmur that grows and growls ! Come from your mines and 

mills, 
Pale-faced girls and women with ragged and hard -eyed children, 
Pour from your dens of the toil and filth, out to the air of heaven — 



SHORT STORIES 285 

Breathe it deep and hearken ! A cry from the cloud or beyond it, 
A cry to the toilers to rise, to be high as the highest that rules them, 
To own the earth in their life-time, and hand it down to their children ! 

Emperors, stand to the bar ! Chancellors, halt at the barracks ! 
Landlords and Lawlords and Tradelords, the spectres you conjured have 

risen— 
Communists, Socialists, Nihilists, Rent-Rebels, Strikers, behold! 
They are fruit of the seed you have sown — God has prospered your planting. 

They come 
From the earth like the army of death. You have sowed the teeth of the 

dragon ! 
Hark to the bay of the leader ! You shall hear the roar of the pack 
As sure as the stream goes seaward. The crust on the crater beneath you 
Shall crack and crumble and sink, with your laws and rules 
That breed the million to toil for the luxury of the ten — 
That grind the rent from the tiller's blood for drones to spend — 
That hold the teeming planet as a garden plot for a thousand — 
That draw the crowds to the cities from the healthful fields and woods — 
That copulate with greed and beget disease and crime — 
That join these two and their offspring, till the world is filled with fear, 
And falsehood wins from truth, and the vile and cunning succeed, 
And manhood and love are dwarfed, and virtue and friendship sick, 
And the law 7 of Christ is a cloak for the corpse that stands for Justice ! 
As sure as the Spirit of God is Truth, this Truth shall reign, 
And the trees and lowly brutes shall cease to be higher than men. 
God purifies slowly by peace, but urgently by fire. 

—John Boyle O'Reilly. 



WALT WHITMAN. 

I think I could turn and live with animals, they are so placid 
and self-contained. 

I stand and look at them long and long. 

They do not sweat and whine about their condition. 

They do not lie awake in the dark and weep for their sins. 

They do not make me sick deciding their duty to God. 

Not one is dissatisfied, not one is demented with the mania 
of owning things. 



286 SHORT STORIES 

Not one kneels to another, or to his kind that lived thousands 
of years ago. 

Not one is respectable or unhappy over the whole earth. 

But we should note this : Whitman merely wanted to live with 
animals, he did not desire to become one. He was not willing 
to forfeit knowledge ; and a part of that knowledge was, that 
man has some things yet to learn from the brute. 

Much of man's misery has come from his persistent ques- 
tioning. 

The book of Genesis is certainly right, when it tells us that 
man's troubles come from his desire to know. The fruit of the 
tree of knowledge is bitter, and man's digestive apparatus has 
been ill-conditioned to assimilate it. But if genius is anything 
but an air-filled phrase, it is this : The ability to act wisely 
without precedent — the power to do the right thing for the first 
time. 

This power of initiative is the rarest quality in man, and is 
the one thing that likens him to Deity — in fact it is Deity 
working through its highest instrument. 

And yet this superior habit of mind has always attracted and 
does attract laughter, depreciation, ridicule, opposition, violence. 

Every genius in the world has, like Michael Angelo, gone 
through life with a broken nose — or a broken heart. Torrigiano's 
hammer is never still. This general tendency to berate and 
down the man of genius must have in it something good. Of 
course, it is nothing to the credit of those who indulge in loud 
laughter that tokens the vacant mind, so no reviler need take 
to himself honors. Yet he is a part of the great law which pro- 
vides that only that which has the power of endurance shall be 
allowed to live. 

Everything must prove its worth. 

Things not built to survive the whips and scorn of time go 
down, to appear centuries later when an environment fitting for 
its use has been formed. He that endureth unto the end shall 
be saved. 



SHORT STORIES 287 



THE TWO ARMIES. 



As life's unending column pours, 
Two marshall'd hosts are seen, — 

Two armies on the trampled shores, 
That Death flows back between. 

One marches to the drum beat's roll, 
The wide-mouth'd clarion's bray, 

And bears upon a crimson scroll, 
" Our glory is to slay." 

One moves in silence by the stream, 

With sad, yet watchful eyes, 
Calm as the patient planet's gleam 

That walks the clouded skies. 

Along its front no sabres shine, 

No blood -red pennons wave : 
Its banner bears the single line, 

" Our duty is to save." 

— Oliver Wendell Holmes. 



THE WAY. 

First find thou Truth, and then — 

Although she strays 
From the beaten paths of men 

To untrod ways — 
Her leading follow straight; 
And bide thy fate ; 
And whether smiles or scorn 

Thy passing greet, 
Or find'st thou flower or thorn 

Beneath thy feet — 
Fare on ! nor fear thy fate 
At Heaven's gate. 

— Wtn. S. Shurtleff. 



SHORT STORIES 



THE WORLD WOULD BE BETTER FOR IT. 

If men cared less for wealth and fame, 
And less for battle -fields and glory ; 
If writ in human hearts a name 

Seemed better than in song or story ; 
If men, instead of nursing pride 

Would learn to hate it, and abhor it — 
If more relied 
On Love to guide, 
The world would be the better for it. 

If men dealt less in stocks and lands, 

And more in bonds and deeds fraternal ; 
If Love's work had more willing hands 

To link this world to the supernal ; 
If men stored up Love's oil and wine, 

And on bruised human hearts would pour it 
If " yours " and " mine " 
Would once combine, 
The world would be the better for it. 

If more would act the play of Life, 

And fewer spoil it in rehearsal ; 
If Bigotry would sheathe its knife 

Till Good became more universal ; 
If custom, gray with ages grown, 
Had fewer blind men to adore it — 
If talent shone 
In Truth alone, 
The world would be the better for it. 

If men were wise in little things, 

Affecting less in all their dealings ; 
If hearts had fewer rusted strings 
To isolate their kindly feelings ; 
If men, when Wrong beats down the Right, 
Would strike together and restore it — 
If Right made Might 
In every fight, 
The world would be the better for it. 

— Selected. 



SHORT STORIES 289 

TRUE LOVE. 

" That impulse rising in the soul 

Which needeth form or chain 
Its warm outgushings to control, 

Which reason must restrain, 
Lest it should make defrauding claim, 
I would not clothe with Love's sweet name. 

" I would not call that Love which could 

Be poisoned, marred, or stained ; 
Which could by any wealth be bought, 

By any power be chained ; 
Which could not take unerring flight, 
Guided by its own magnets bright. 

" O, no, thou pearl -winged dove, go forth ! 

I'd scorn to check thy flight; 
Soar onward wheresoe'er thou wilt 

Where'er thou wilt, alight; 
I know thine God-given powers 
Will guide thee to celestial bowers. 

" Go forth in freedom, — Seek no guide, 

Save that deep pulse within, 
Which swelleth like the ocean -tide, 

Where thou hast found thy kin, 
Then fill thy cup with bliss divine, — 
Thou canst not drink what is not thine. 

" Trust thy attractions, and in turn 

Attract whate'er thou wilt; 
I know that in thy nature burns 

No flame of lust or guilt ; 
Thou couldst fold up thy wings, and rest 
Within the purest angel's breast. 

" When man can make the new-born Spring 

Withhold her fragrant breath, 
Or the eternal Spring bring 

An offering unto death, 
Then thy white wing may feel the chain 
Which now is forged for thee in vain. 



29O SHORT STORIES 

" Go forth ! Enraptured I behold 

Thee spread thy snowy wing ; 
So will I love the fragrant dews 

Thou e'er dost from it fling. 
Go I naught can bind thee, Spirit-dove ; — 
Wert thou not free, thou wert not Love." 

—Mrs. F. O. Hyzer, Vt. 



THE MONEYLESS MAN. 

Is there no secret place on the face of the earth 
Where charity dwelleth, and virtue hath birth ? 
Where bosoms in mercy and kindness will heave, 
And the poor and the wretched shall ask and receive? 
Is there no place on earth where a knock from the poor 
Will bring a kind angel to open the door? 
Oh ! search the wild world wherever you can, 
There's no open door for the moneyless man I 

Go look at your hall where the chandelier's light 
Drives off with its splendor the darkness of night ; 
Where the rich hanging velvet, in shadowy fold, 
Sweeps gracefully down with its trimmings of gold, 
And the mirrors of silver take up and renew 
In long, lightened vistas the 'wildering view ; 
Go there in your patches, and call, if you can, 
A welcoming smile for the moneyless man. 

Go look in your church of the cloud -reaching spire, 
Which gives back to the sun his same look of red fire ; 
Where the arches and columns are gorgeous within, 
And the souls seem as pure as a soul without sin ; 
Go down the long aisle — see the rich and the great, 
In the pomp and the pride of their worldly estate ; 
Walk down in your patches, and find, if you can, 
Who opens a pew to a moneyless man. 

Go look to yon judge in his dark, flowing gown, 
With the scales wherein law weigheth equity down, 
Where he frowns on the weak and smiles on the strong 
And punishes right, while he justifies wrong; 
Where jurors their lips on the Bible have laid, 
To render a verdict they've already made ; 



SHORT STORIES 29! 

Go there in the court -room and find, if you can, 
Any law for the cause of the moneyless man. 

Go look in the banks where mammon hath told 
His hundreds and thousands of silver and gold, 
Where safe from the hands of the starving and poor, 
Lies pile upon pile of the glittering ore, 
Walk up to the counter, ah, there you may stay 
'Till your limbs grow old and your hair turns gray 
And you'll find at the banks not one of the clan 
With money to lend to a moneyless man. 

Then go to your hovel — no raven has fed 
The wife who has suffered so long for her bread — 
Kneel down by her pallet, and kiss the death frost 
From the lips of the angel your poverty lost; 
Then turn from your agony upward to God, 
And bless, while it smites you, the chastening rod ; 
And you'll find at the end of life's little span, 
There's welcome above for the moneyless man. 



TRUTH STRANGER THAN FICTION. 

Over fifty years ago I kept a bath room, together with a hair- 
dressing room, on India street. I had a fountain twelve hundred 
feet away with an abundance of water, connected by twelve 
hundred feet of iron pipe. One day the water gave out, and 
for three days I searched diligently for the leak, but no sign of 
any leakage anywhere could I find. I had a friend, a Methodist 
brother, who was a great joker and he was always making fun 
of my Spiritualism — seldom met me without referring to it. 
While I was searching for the leak he came along and said, 
"Why don't you ask your spirit friends where it is? They 
ought to know." In an instant it flashed into my mind and I 
sprang from the fountain so suddenly that he thought I had 
resented what he had said, and cried out, "Don't get offended, 
I was only in fun." " Yes, but if I find the leak where the 
thought I received when you spoke to me said it was, I should 
think it a rebuke for your derisive slur." The thought that 



292 SHORT STORIES 

came to me was this: " We will let him know we can tell you; 
the leak is below you in an adjoining building." I started for 
the house ; it was closed, but the same owner that owned my 
building owned that; he had a key; we went in the building 
and there found the faucet in the sink left open and the water 
had to run through my pipes and down through the sink. The 
people were away on a visit and had left it open. Just where 
the thought given me suggesting the leak came from we may 
differ, but it came just the same. Now, the sceptic will say, 
and I have said the same, " Why didn't your spirit friends tell 
you before and save you all this trouble ? " I don't know — it 
might be that it was kept back to rebuke this young man ; 
most assuredly he took it as such, for twenty years afterwards 
he asked me if I remembered it. He said, " Time and again, 
my wife and I have talked it over, how mysterious and singular 
it was that at the very moment you should have thought where 
the leak was." 

AN OLD FRIEND. 

In the course of my long life I have met all kinds of men. 
When I first arrived in Portland, a perfect — no, an imperfect — 
stranger, there was a young man who shaved with me. He was 
a dandy, and a diamond of the first water; he wore one yellow 
glove on week days, and on Sunday he wore two, like Old 
Grimes's hen that laid two eggs every day and Sunday she laid 
three. I have met so many " men of the mighty mothers, who 
would be wits but can't be gentlemen," that I am not much 
disturbed now when I do meet them. I met this youngster 
one Sunday morning, rolling., or, more properly speaking, sail- 
ing down Middle street in all his regal splendor. I said, 
" Good morning, Mr. Blank, a fine morning this." He stared 
at me with a look of astonishment, and replied, "Todd, I want 
you to understand this, that because I shave with you occasion- 
ally, the acquaintance formed there does not extend into the 
street." My first impulse was to slap him in the face, but as I 
had started in life with the determination never to strike a 



SHORT STORIES 293 

fellow being, I stopped the blow and said, "All that prevents 
me from thrashing you is, I have resolved never to kick a 
cripple nor strike a fool." Not long after that he went into 
business and, like many others, failed, as about ninety in a 
hundred do as statistics show. He and I remained in Portland. 
Years after that he became very poor. The little incident I 
mentioned above had passed but was not forgotten ; we let it 
pass and kept up an acquaintance. One day I met him, stopped 
and shook his hand. He had been drinking, his hands were 
trembling, and he shook all over. The tears dimmed his eyes, 
and he said, "John, I am sick, and in want of food. I have 
not tasted a thing for two days, so help me. Please give but a 
few cents?" "No money now. Come with me, I am on my 
way to dinner at a hotel." He called for a boiled dinner and 
when he had finished the meal, I needed no further proof that 
he had not eaten anything for two days. When I settled for 
the dinner the landlord asked me who he was. I told him he, 
the boarder, was nameless "evermore." While eating he 
referred to the incident of our early meeting in the street and 
his little breach of politeness, that came near bringing trouble 
to him. He said he had learned many a lesson since then. 
"Yes," I said, " time is the corrector where our judgment errs, 
and time often is the avenger when we we have done a wrong. 
Cheer up, it is never too late to mend. There may be brighter 
days in store for us all." He shook his head in doubt so far 
as he was concerned, and said, " I have learned many a sad 
lesson since first we met." "Yes," I replied, trying to be a 
little facetious and to lighten up the gloom, "in the language of 
a brother Methodist revivalist, 'and yet there is room.' " The 
poor man passed away at the Greeley Hospital a few years ago. 

LETTING THE CAT OUT OF THE BAG. 

In 1852, there was a young man at work in Portland at the 
carpenter trade. He was tired of his job, and wished to go to 
Boston, but was short of funds and owed a few bills. A thought 



294 SHORT STORIES 

struck him how he could make a raise, get a few dollars to pay 
his bills, and enable him to go to the Hub and settle down for 
life. At that time the city was much excited over the wonderful 
stories told throughout the county, and especially in this city of 
Portland. Among those in the higher walks of life who were 
telling those strange stories was a merchant and a leading citizen, 
who was having those strange phenomena occur at his house. 
There were many of the elite of the city, and especially those of 
the church-going people, who were anxious to learn or even to 
hear of anything that would give light upon or expose that 
terrible thing called Spiritualism. This young man hit upon 
the very thing looked and hoped for, and to satisfy that craving 
of the mind to prove their wishes or doubts to be true. He 
posted throughout the city handbills in flaming colors, " The 
great humbug exposed, and the cat would be let out of the bag 
on Wednesday night." 

The old City Hall that stood in Market Square, now Monu- 
ment Square, was packed full with the bon ton of the city, 
together with the believers and doubters in these strange 
events, that were upon the lips of all, both small and great, all 
waiting in breathless silence, in hopeful expectancy, to witness 
the great expose. The young man stepped upon the stage, 
well dressed, his frock buttoned to the chin, with a smile on his 
face that betokened confidence and success, he bowed politely, 
thanked the audience and said : " I shall put forth my best 
effort to fulfil the promise I have made to you and the public." 
Turning round to his accomplice he took a large bag from him, 
faced the audience, opened the bag, from which a large black 
cat sprang out, with tail erect and as large as a coon cat's tail, 
and as frightened an animal as ever was seen. Leaping over 
the footlights, the first row of seats and the heads of those 
seated in them, and amidst the screeches, laughter and cheers 
of the crowd he made a wild rush for a window, but failing to 
get out, with a wild cat's screech, turned and sprang over the 
heads of the crowd and made for a window on the opposite side 
of the hall and, failing to find an exit there, rushed to the open 



SHORT STORIES 295 

door and vanished in the darkness. But that was not the cat 
that the poet sang of when he wrote, "And the cat came back," 
for this one never returned. At the same time the man who 
had let the cat out of the bag, with his assistant, had stepped 
to the rear of the curtain. Then some of the more indignant 
ones jumped upon the stage to hold and arrest him, for they 
considered it an outrage and a crime to invite them there and 
take their money just to see a cat spring out of a bag. But, 
alas, the bird had flown, for the boys had placed a ladder up 
at a window in the rear of the stage, facing the United States 
Hotel, and with their plunder, estimated at seventy-five or one 
hundred dollars, had escaped, "never, forever," never to return 
again ; at least, I have not heard of their return, and I do not 
think they ever have. Now comes in the laugh, or the "pity 
of it," for, mark you, the elite of the city were there, the staid 
old citizens, those who had a watchful care over the good name 
and morals of our city; and there T noticed such men as Capt. 
John B. Coyle, John Neal, Doctor Gilman, Captain Hood, and 
the Rev. Doctor Dwight, he who ever guarded and watched the 
gate that opened the way leading to Mount Sion, for he had 
great fears that Spiritualism would lead his flock astray ; hence 
he guarded his lambs with miserly care, and anything that 
tended to discourage, or degrade, or prove Spiritualism untrue 
he hailed with delight, whether uttered by a saint, or by a cat 
leaping from a bag. As we were passing out of the hall, Cap- 
tain Hood accosted me, with a look of anger and reproach, 
saying, "Todd, is this one of your getting up, this scheme to 
defraud and insult the citizens of Portland in this manner? I 
look upon it as the most insulting trick ever gotten up to rob 
and defraud the people, and I feel indignant and will do my 
part to have him arrested, whoever he may be, and punished 
for this outrage." I said, "If I were in the habit of resenting 
insults I should most assuredly resent your remark, '• Did I 
assist in getting this up ? ' No, Captain Hood, for I am a 
quarter out as well as yourself, but I am not fretting over it as 
you appear to be ; I rather enjoy it. I think it is as weighty a 



296 SHORT STORIES 

thing as I have yet seen or heard against Spiritualism, although 
I do not know just how much the cat weighed. But, to be 
serious, Captain. Why should you feel so badly about it, for 
the young man has carried out to the letter just what he adver- 
tised ? He said he would let the cat out of the bag, and he 
most assuredly let him out, and if you did not see him you must 
have been the only one in the hall who did not." The old 
captain left feeling quite indignant, and I have not a doubt but 
that he really thought the Spiritualists got it up, but I know 
they had no part in the matter. 

A DREAM. 

Was it a trance or was it a dream ? I retired rather late, 
having been at a meeting of the Grand Army at Scarboro Town 
Hall on Memorial evening. I may have been a little nervous, 
or perhaps overworked, as I spoke a short time at the meeting, 
and, feeling myself outclassed, — there being upon the platform 
the minister of the town, Rev. Mr. Smith, and also the Hon. 
Augustus F. Moulton, who was there expressly to advocate the 
erection in that town of a soldiers' monument, so long neglected 
— I retired about midnight. I had not been asleep long, if at 
all, when I seemed to be at the gate of heaven, the last place I 
ever expected to be in. When I approached the gate St. Peter 
was talking to Pope Leo XIII. He was received by his illus- 
trious predecessor, St. Peter, with a smile of cordial welcome. 
" You have had a long and tranquil reign," said the saint. " I 
trust you have left the affairs of our holy church in a flourish- 
ing condition on earth." 

His Holiness assured St. Peter that the Catholic faith was 
never more firmly rooted and grounded, and the influence of 
the church never more firmly established than when he left 
Rome. The saint looked pleased and said to His Holiness, 
"I am glad to hear so favorable an account of your spiritual 
reign. Was your temporal reign equally successful ? " 

"Not in all respects," replied His Holiness, "still I left 
behind me about twenty-four millions of money." 



SHORT STORIES 297 

"Indeed," said St. Peter, "we touched no such sum as that 
in my day. To whom did you entrust such a vast hoard ? " 

" To the Rothschilds," said His Holiness, hesitatingly. 

Something like a frown overspread the features of the saint. 
"To the Rothschilds," said he, with deliberation, "are they 
Jews ? " 

" I believe — that is to say — I think — yes — they are," said 
His Holiness, with still greater hesitation. 

"And do you mean to tell me," said the saint sternly, "that 
'you, the vicar of Jesus Christ on earth, deposited the contribu- 
tions of our holy church with the descendants of those men 
who reviled and spat upon Him and cruelly put Him to death? " 

" Well— ah— yes, I did." 

" Why did you ? " said the saint, sternly. " You should have 
had a very powerful reason." 

"I did have a very powerful one," replied His Holiness. 
" The truth is, St. Peter, I did not know any Christians with 
whom I was willing to trust so much money." 

THE GOOD OLD TIMES. 

When this old hat was new, 

The railroad was a stage, 
And a six -mule team made plenty of steam 

For the broadest kind of guage. 

You caught a goose when you wanted a pen, 

The ink we used was blue, 
And the woman you loved didn't want to be men 

When this old hat was new. 

A spade was only a spade, 

And Jennie was just plain " Jane." 
For his impudent lip the boy would skip 

At the end of a rattan cane. 

There were sixteen ounces in every pound, 

Four quarts made a gallon true ; 
But things don't seem like they used to be 

When this old hat was new. 



298 SHORT STORIES 

But we've shortened the time since then, 
And we're running a faster heat, 

And the boys of ten are full blown men, 
Who run the store and the street. 

We blush to giggle, and we should smile ; 

And we're cute and never say die ; 
We're up to snuff, and we're full of guile, 

And we're just too awfully fly. 

And father is governor, old man, dad, 

And his old day is gone ; 
We run things fast and a little bad, 

Since we put this new hat on. 

—R. /. Burdette. 



HOW LINCOLN PROPOSED. 

Abraham Lincoln's offer of marriage was a very curious one. 
Numerous as his biographers have been, says the Young Ladies' 
Fashion Bazaar, and closely as they have gleamed for new facts 
and materials, it was left for the latest one — Mr. Jesse Welk of 
Greencastle — to discover the unique and characteristic produc- 
tion of Mr. Lincoln's almost untutored mind. The letter is one 
of several written, presumably, to the lady he afterward married. 
Addressed to " My Dear Mary." It reads thus : 

"You must know that I can't see you or think of you with 
entire indifference, and yet it may be that you are mistaken in 
regard to what my rt al feelings toward you are. If I knew you 
were not I should not trouble you with this letter. Perhaps any 
other man would know enough without any further information, 
but I consider it my peculiar right to plead my ignorance and 
your bounden duty to allow the plea. 

" I want in all cases to do right, and most particularly so in all 
cases with women. I want at this particular time, more than 
anything else, to do right with you, and if I knew it would be 
doing right, as I rather suspect it would, to let you alone, I 
would do it. And for the purpose of making the matter as 
plain as possible I now say you can drop the subject, dismiss 
your thoughts — if you ever had any — from me forever, and 



SHORT STORIES 299 

leave this letter unanswered without calling forth one accusing 
murmur from me. 

" And I will even go further, and say that if it will add any- 
thing to your comfort and peace of mind to do so it is my sin- 
cere wish that you should. Do not understand by this that I 
wish to cut your acquaintance. I mean no such thing. What 
I do wish is that our further acquaintance shall depend 
upon yourself. If such further acquaintance would contribute 
nothing to your happiness I am sure it would not to mine. 

" If you feel yourself in any degree bound to me, I am now 
willing to release you, provided you wish it, while on the other 
hand I am willing and even anxious to bind you faster if I can 
be convinced that it will in any degree add to your happiness. 

"This, indeed, is the whole question with me. Nothing would 
make me more miserable than to believe you miserable ; nothing 
more happy than to know you were so. In what I have now 
said I think I cannot be misunderstood, and to make myself 
understood is the only object of this letter. If it suits you best 
not to answer this, farewell. 

" A long life and a merry one attend you. But, if you conclude 
to write back, speak, as plainly as I do. There can be neither 
harm nor danger in saying to me anything you think, just in 
the manner you think it. Your friend, A. Lincoln." 

Probably this is the queerest love letter on record and the 
most remarkable offer of marriage ever made. It is a love 
letter without one word of love, and is a proposal of marriage 
that does not propose, and yet it led to the great Lincoln's 
marriage. 



BARBERS' STORIES. 



DIFFERENT STYLES OF HAIR CUTTING. 

In 1830, when Gen. Andrew Jackson was president of the 
United States, the style of wearing the hair was to comb it 
back from the forehead, no parting, but short, for Jackson wore 
his that way; that was the fashion for several years, called the 
Jackson style. Then came the style called the " soap locks," 
that was to cut it short on the back of the head up to the 
crown, but leave it long in front of the ears and let it grow long 
down on each side of the face ; I have seen some boys who let 
it grow so long that they could tie it under their chin, many of 
them did so for sport, for at a little distance they looked like 
whiskers. This was in the thirties and early forties. Then the 
style changed to the half-shingle, that is, we let it grow quite 
long all around, and many ladies used to have their hair cut 
short and then have it curled all over their heads ; the men and 
boys had theirs curled also. I have stood many an afternoon 
and evening, when there was to be a ball or dance, and curled 
the hair of both sexes. After that the style was to part the 
hair on both sides of the head and roll it, the whole length of 
the head, over the fingers or with the curling iron. This style 
was called the topknot style, and it used to take a great lot of 
bear's oil, or perhaps a bear with a split hoof, better known by 
the name of pig's oil, to grease the hair in those days, for, in 
addition to the topknot, we had to roll the hair under all around 
the back of the head. The hair was left long, down to the coat 
collar, and I have seen the grease drop from the hair onto a 
nice velvet collar when I sat in church and saw some foolish 
dandy trying in this way to rival some competitor in the greas- 
ing line. The best barber in the town, in his estimation, was 
he who would put on the most lard or "bear's oil, at twenty 



BARBERS STORIES 3OI 

cents a gallon, perfumed with bergamot and lemon," and when 
they bought a bottle of six or eight ounces they would pay from 
fifty cents to a dollar for it, another proof of " where ignorance 
is bliss 'tis folly to be wise." Then came the style of 1850, 
when the hair was worn quite long, still called the half-shingle, 
parted behind and combed up over the ears. It was a fine 
dress style, but it was quite a job to do it well, and with some 
heads of hair it was almost impossible to do a good job, for 
some hair was so stiff that, however hard you might try to do a 
good piece of work, it was bound to stick out like a sore finger. 
That style remained longer in fashion than any style I ever 
knew, when it was changed to combing the hair back of the 
ears ; then the old Jackson style returned once more, under a 
new name, called the pompadour, that is, combing it up in 
front. This style did not remain long, and then came the 
excelsior, or the highest, as now practiced, when every man and 
barber has become a law unto himself, has no standard of art, 
go as you please, grab the clippers and cut it all off whether 
the customer wants it or not — any hostler could do it as well. 
But, notwithstanding, hair-cutting is an art, for every artist tries 
to represent nature. Now, what is the standard of art aimed 
at by every true artist ? When an artist attempts to paint a 
tree he goes out into the woods to find a perfect tree and then 
tries his best to represent it on canvas, and he who comes the 
nearest in doing it is the best artist. So it is with hair-cutting, 
for the standard of the art is a child's hair that has never been 
cut, and he who best represents it on the human head is the 
true artist. For in art as in morals, " Let God be true, and 
every man a liar," when the comparative is used. 

Hair is given for use as well as ornament, but now it is not 
used much for either, for it is generally cut off. O, how I have 
trembled sometimes, when men who are much exposed to the 
inclemency of the weather take my chair, especially on a cold 
day, and say, "Take your clippers and clip off my hair." I 
never fail to beg him not to have it done, for I know of more 
than one who have lost their lives by so doing. So much for 



302 BARBERS STORIES 

its use. Now as an ornament. Have you ever noticed, when 
admiring the ancient paintings and sculpture of the great artists 
of Greece and Rome, that you see no bald heads there to repre- 
sent beauty ? Without hair there can be no expression given 
to the human face. Man should wear his hair the length that 
beautifies him most, and not have so much cut off at any time 
as to change his appearance so much that every friend who 
meets him asks if he has had a fever, or what has changed him 
so. The late John Neal, one of Portland's greatest critics on 
art, used to say to me, "John, if you cut my hair so short that 
anyone will notice it, you shall never cut.it again," and he had 
it cut every two weeks. There is nothing so dangerous to 
health as to cut off all the hair from the back of the head and 
neck, at the base of the brain, and go out in the cold. 

LIVE GOSSIP. 

"Your next, a shave or a hair cut," shouted a barber on 
Fore street, as a frizzly haired suburban with two inches of 
whiskers flopped into a chair. ''-Well, I reckon as how it will 
have to be both, if you get them ere spears off my face," and 
so it came to pass, a shave and a hair cut. Only one of many 
incidents in the thrilling and eventful life of the manwho wields 
the razor. The Portland barbers, genial, generous whole- 
souled creatures of about two hundred and sixty in number, are 
more or less record breakers, some might say barbers lie easy, 
unlike the head that wears the crown, but mind you these are 
affidavit statements. Records, ye gods listen and hear. 

How are thirty-two seconds for a starter, yet Reginald Carles, 
the elongated blonde at the Congress Square, claims to have 
performed this feat once over, not counting lathering. Carles 
has also seen sixty-nine persons shaved in one hour at a tour- 
nament in London. Dick Webb has pulled in sixteen dollars 
on a Saturday at the old Colony Depot in Boston. J. C. 
Moxcey, now forty-five years in the business, once took nineteen 
dollars and fifty cents on two Saturdays in succession, and on 



BARBERS STORIES 303 

another occasion, pocketed sixteen dollars and fifty cents for 
the day's work. Charles C. Haskann, the king of left handed 
barbers, once hauled off eighteen dollars on a Saturday while 
working in Portland. Fred Cook at the Preble, one of the 
swiftest wielders, raked in the cool sum of fifty dollars during 
Grand Army week. J. B. Powers is slow but thunderingly sure. 
J. J. Sullivan says he pushed the steel over a man's face in a 
minute and a half, bear in mind I am not telling you any fish 
stories. Luke V. Whalen, the only official minute barber in the 
city, swears that by all that is green on earth that he lathered 
and shaved a man over twice in just one minute, and that the 
sum total of his earnings on one third of July was nineteen 
dollars and thirty-five cents, working up to two o'clock Sunday 
morning, and "you tell that thirty-two-second fellow," said Luke, 
11 I'd like to meet him down back of some old barn some dark 
night." George N. Rich says he has got the figures to show 
that he shaved ninety men in one day and that he also took in 
fifteen dollars on Saturday. G. A. Waite shaved three men and 
cut one man's hair in twenty minutes. Henry Mayo, thirty 
years in the business and one of the lightning manipulators, 
once shaved a man and cut his hair in seven minutes, and took 
sixteen dollars and fifty cents on a Saturday. But here's one 
all hot, grab it before it cools, Fred Morrill, in his palmy days 
was one of the quickest barbers the sun ever shown on, once 
shaved a man at four hundred and ten Congress street in time 
to catch a street car that was at the head of Pearl street when 
the man entered, the shop and the man he shaved was Billy 
Moxie of the mailing department of Union Station, who vouches 
for the fact. But speaking of tonsorial feats, A. O. Kenny, the 
young handsome barber at the West End, successfully shaved a 
man on a wager while riding on a tandem at Kebo Valley Park 
at Bar Harbor last summer. Samuel DuLaski turns them off 
at the rate of one in four minutes. W. A. Orr shaved and cut 
a man's hair in seven minutes. F. E. Rollins claims nine 
minutes on a hair cut and twelve dollars and forty cents on a 
Saturday. A. DuChesne can turn them out easily on a two 



304 BARBERS STORIES 

minute basis. Said he took fourteen dollars and sixty-five cents 
on Saturday without straining a muscle. A. U. Aubbins at the 
West End has a record of a minute and a half and has done a 
shave and a hair in eight minutes. D. C. Hutchins, the 
magician barber, often shaves a man a minute by way of 
recreation. J. N. Pooler has removed the hair from the faces 
of eleven men in one hour. George W. Damm once shaved, 
with a boy to help him lather, seventeen men in twenty min- 
utes. R. B. Carpenter, the adonis of the profession, once 
pulled out a hair of a certain butcher's face fourteen inches long 
and the butcher is still using the same face. Mr. Carpenter is a 
razorial connosieur. J. C. Gray, on Munjoy Hill, while in 
Chicago use to round them out at the rate of twelve men an 
hour. W. C. Bertrand, the winsome blonde at the Preble, one 
of the two duplex handed artists in town, has removed the 
whiskers and curtailed the cranial adornment in just eighteen 
minutes synchronized Washington D. C, time. 

One of the long renowned tonsorial artists, who has been in 
the business sixty-one years, the same man who twice cut Jeff 
Davis's hair, and who has, perhaps, shaved more of the distin- 
guished men of Portland than any other barber, has two cus- 
tomers now who have been with him over fifty years. He has 
taken forty dollars in one day, with four men beside himself. 
His record is fifteen dollars and fifty cents in one day, and in 
the year 1874, his receipts, with four men, were five thousand 
and fifty-one dollars. There were not over twenty barbers in 
Portland at that time. 

J. C. Moxcey has been plastering the lather on the human 
face forty-five years, and it is estimated that Mr. Moxcey and 
the razor have traveled in the aggregate over seven hundred 
and eighteen miles over human faces. In his younger days no 
more alert barber stood by the mug. 

One of the most remarkable barbers in the city in point of 
service and in feats performed is Luke V. Whalen, who has 
seen forty-five years of barbering and blacksmithing combined. 
He is sometimes called the father of barbers, and was known 



BARBERS STORIES 305 

far and wide as the swiftest in the business. He has graduated 
a larger number of apprentices than any other wielder of the 
razor in these parts. Boys who used to work beside Whalen 
are scattered from Eastport to Denver. 

George N. Rich was industriously scraping customers forty- 
three years ago. Charles Sherry, a progressive and scientific 
barber, shaved his first man with John B. Pike, thirty-four years 
ago, and A. Murphy, who keeps canaries for mascots, has seen 
a quarter of a century of service. J. Orrin Reid, who died 
recently, had a record of forty-five years in the business. J. P. 
Welch, one of the most skilled in the city, looms up with a 
record of seventeen years. Who says barbering does not con- 
duce to longevity ? 

But to return to the hard rendering records. Crowell, the 
heavy man at Arthur Smith's, says he thinks most of the bar- 
bers are talking through their hats. O. P. Skinner has chased 
a razor over a man's countenance in five minutes. Billy 
Adams makes ten or twelve men an hour for good and quick 
work. William Gibbons has made thirteen dollars and sev- 
enty cents on a Saturday, and ate dinner that day but no 
supper. John Hovey cut a man's hair once in about or there- 
abouts and gave the best of satisfaction ; this occurred in 
the spring of '86. George W. Ross gave a shave and hair cut 
in twelve minutes, and turns out soft beards in two and hard 
beards in five minutes. C. O. Curtis, who wears a hearty three- 
meal smile, says two and one-half is his record. Dick York, 
who used to run the Preble House shop, is probably the richest 
barber in Portland. J. C. Smith, the inventive barber, is one 
of the most scientific in his line, and he also has excelled most 
of the leading lights in Portland. Con O'Neill says he has got 
documentary evidence to show that he never shaved a man 
inside of ten minutes. A. Murphy claims two minutes on a 
shave, and says the man don't live who can take nineteen 
dollars on a Saturday. C. I. Orr, at the Falmouth, cut a man's 
hair, shaved him and colored his mustache in eighteen minutes, 
and on another occasion shaved himself and caught the ferry 



306 barbers' stories 

boat in ten minutes. It may be recalled that Thomas Whalen. 
brother of Luke, started the famous barber shop in the Palmer 
House in Chicago. Jim Donovan is another fast one, and 
shaved a man in a minute, while the Express reporter waited, 
George Weatherbee is a razorial expert who has won laurels. 
And among others not to be forgotten are : Jack Cushing, who 
has worked all over the United States. John W. Beaman, the 
accomplished hair-cutter, gave a shave and hair cut in twenty- 
three minutes. George A. Powers says he can grind them out 
all the live long day at the rate of seven minutes each. R. H. 
Cushing figures on about ten shaves an hour. J. H. Scully 
says a good man ought to shave about six an hour. P. H. Terrio 
has given three hair cuts and two shaves in an hour, and has 
taken thirteen dollars and thirty-five cents on a Saturday. H. 
P. Newton, the barber-ornithologist-politician, and what he says 
goes, states that from twenty-six years' experience he considers 
five minutes the least time a good shave could be given ; he 
considers six dollars a good Saturday's work now, but he has 
taken as high as twelve dollars and seventy cents. William L. 
Ewing's speed has never been given, but he was fast and has 
been known to finish his man up before the bell rang for nine 
p. m. Benner has shaved a man over twice and cut his hair in 
two minutes and thirty seconds, and taken in twelve dollars and 
thirty-five cents on a Saturday. P. A. Duffy has gone over a 
man twice and fixed up his mustache in three minutes. F. L. 
Bosworth says he wouldn't take the gift of a record. T. H. 
Whalen has skated over a man's face and chopped his hair off 
in thirteen minutes, and has earned eleven dollars and sixty 
cents on a Saturday. R. A. Brownley, at the St. Julian, says 
the biggest pile he ever scraped in on a Saturday was ten 
dollars, and people who know Brownley say he is an honest 
man. 

John M. Todd, of Portland, is a phenomenal barber. Instead 
of having his tables cumbered with police papers and other 
unsavory literature, copies of the North American Review, 
LitteWs Living Age, The Nation and Scribner^s Monthly are 



BARBERS STORIES 307 

kept on hand for the convenience of waiting customers. He 
has ancient history at his tongue's end, can quote Shakespeare 
by the yard, and can talk a man dumb on Greenbackism, pro- 
toplasm, transcendentalism and the Darwin theory. — Boston 
Post, May 18, 1880. 

John H. B. Morrill worked for me sixteen years. He was a 
character, a man of impulse, not always governed by the high- 
est principles, and also a genius. After the great fire he moved 
over to the Cape, now South Portland. He bought a cow and 
calf. He took the cow over the ferry at noon, but the calf he 
sold to a butcher, who was to take it home at evening. After 
the great fire in 1866, I bought a photograph saloon and hauled 
it upon the sidewalk in front of the post office. The custom 
house at that time was in the post office building in the room 
now occupied by the United States Court. Mr. Morrill hitched 
the calf to the wheel of the saloon until the butcher called for 
it. Of course, as soon as the mother was taken away, the calf 
commenced its music, and such bleating and blarting was never 
heard in front of the post office before nor since. One of the 
inspectors of customs came in a great rage and said : " Todd, I 
want that calf moved at once." "That is not my property, Mr. 
Blank," I replied. " Whose calf is it ? " " Mr. Morrill did own 
it, but has sold it to a butcher." " Mr. Morrill, you remove 
that nuisance at once." "You don't like that music, I reckon," 
Mr. Morrill replied. " Mr. Blank, you will blart worse than 
that when the Federal tit is taken from you." 

He kept the cow all summer, sold her, I think, to Captain 
Mareen. " I see she has but one horn, Mr. Morrill. She is not 
breachy, and broke her horn by hooking fences, I hope." "She 
never troubled me any that way." In a few weeks the captain 
called on Mr. Morrill. "Happy to see you, Captain." "I 
don't know whether you will be happy or not to see me, I have 
come on business." Morrill told me afterwards he knew what 
the business was he came to adjust. "You told me, Mr. Mor- 
rill, that cow was not breachy. I can't keep her anywhere. 
She will toss over her head every fence she comes to. She 



308 barbers' stories 

would break up a camp meeting. Now what did you mean by 
telling me that she was not breachy ? " "I never told you so." 
" You certainly did, for I asked in particular if she was not 
and spoke of her horn being broken off. Don't you remember 
that ? " " Yes, I remember your speaking about that, and I 
told you in plain words, Captain, that she bad never troubled 
me any on that account. She would come home every night 
full of herd grass and clover she had got by breaking into the 
neighbor's field, but it never troubled me any. But it did trouble 
Neighbor Dyer, I have no doubt, some ; but it never did me." 
The captain burst out laughing, bade him good-by and went 
home. 

In 1858 there was a closely contested election for mayor. At 
that time there were no secret ballots and the voting was not 
as closely watched as now. Everybody was supposed to be 
honest then. Morrill was a great hustler. He boasted that he 
could get more floaters to the polls to vote than any man in the 
city. He belonged to fire engine number eight, and the com- 
pany had as lively a set of boys at that time as any company in 
the city. One of the boys hailed Morrill and said: " We must 
get every voter out to-day that is on the voting list, or we shall 
get left. I just looked over the list. There is Patrick Ward's 
name there. He died about two years ago. You can get some 
one to vote in his name. There is a dollar to pay the fellow 
that you get." John plants himself upon the sidewalk to look 
over the longshoremen as they go to dinner. Mr. Blank was 
warden at that time. He was a great politician. Morrill did 
not have long to wait before an Irishman, a coal-heaver, on his 
way to dinner, appeared. John stepped up to him in a most 
familiar manner, reached out his hand with a "How are you, 
Mr. Ward ? " "And who are ye talking to, young man ? My 
name is not Ward at all, but Mike Flannagan." " Never mind 
that. I have a dollar for you." "What for?" "I want you 
to vote for me." " Faith, I can't. I'm not naturalized." 
" That makes no difference to-day." " Is that so ? and how is 
that ?" " Why, there is a name on the voting list ; I want you 



BARBERS STORIES 309 

to vote in that name, and the dollar is yours. Will you do as 
I want you to, for obedience is better than sacrifice in this case ? 
Now listen ; I want you to walk up to the desk over there, hold 
up your head, as though you owned the whole shooting match. 
and say, ' Pat Ward, sir.' Speak up loud, and he will say, 
' What ward ? ' Tell him ' Ward one.' " He marched up as big 
as Billy-be-blessed. "Mr. Ward, sir." He forgot to put in 
Pat. Mr. Blank said, "What Ward?" "Ward one, sir. Vote 
Mr. Ward." One of the Republican checkers said, " He did 
not understand you, Mr. Blank, when you asked for his given 
name." " Well, I did," said the warden, amid a roar of 
laughter. 

It was a bitter cold Saturday night and the people who were 
out had to keep on the move pretty much all the time to keep 
from freezing to death. Notwithstanding that the thermometer 
was nearly down to the zero mark, the usual Saturday night 
crowd was on hand and the stores and theatres were largely 
patronized. The clerks were kept busy until closing-up time, 
and big audiences filled both the Jefferson and the Portland. 
When the curtain went down at the vaudeville house at 10.20, 
the people in the audience tucked on their outer garments and 
rushed down the stairway. A long line of electrics was waiting 
and all of them were filled in no time. In fact the electrics did 
a flourishing business at this particular time. 

John M. Todd, when he was in his eighty-fourth year, 
finished a busy day's work at eleven o'clock and, pulling 
on a light-weight overcoat and a cap down over his ears, 
started to walk to his home on Hampshire street. He didn't 
mind the cold a bit. "Do you say it's cold?" remarked the 
veteran as he left his shop at the corner of Middle and Temple 
streets. "This isn't bad at all. I enjoy it. My body never 
gets cold, and my ears are the only part of my anatomy that is 
ever affected. They say this is a tough winter, but it doesn't 
begin to compare with some others we have had here in Port- 
land. Why, in the winter of '72-'73, the harbor froze over so 
that you could ride down to Harpswell on the ice. For a steady 



3IO BARBERS STORIES 

ninety days the snow didn't thaw in front of the post office. I 
can take my oath to that statement. That was one of the 
winters when I had my barber shop at the corner of Exchange 
and Middle streets, where Delavina's cigar store is now located. 
For a continuous stretch of ninety days the frost was so thick 
on the windows of my shop that I couldn't look out to the side- 
walk. The thermometer once dropped to twenty-eight degrees 
below. 

" I've had a good business to-day," continued the old-time 
Greenback advocate. " A week ago to-day, when there was 
such a severe storm, we didn't do much, but to-day we've more 
than made up for it. I've cut more hair to-day than any day 
for a long time. Shaving has also been good. My spirit 
friends must have come to my rescue and sent in the cus- 
tomers. 

Mr. Todd never looked or felt better in his long and eventful 
career. After standing at his chair all day he said he didn't 
feel at all tired, and when he started off for home his step was 
as brisk as that of a man in his prime. A year ago he fell 
down a flight of stairs at his home and broke one of his legs. 
He was laid up for six weeks, and that is the only time he has 
ever been incapacitated from business for many years. It was 
a hard siege for him to stay in doors, but he was as patient and 
philosophical as ever. His wound knit perfectly and now he is 
as well as ever. 

Mr. Creech, rather a famous artist, came here from Boston 
and, with a great flourish of trumpets, opened a shop, expecting 
to carry everything in the barber line by storm ; advertised that 
he used nothing but Damascus blades and Kesan soap, a 
famous shaving soap — every barber used it, but he was giving 
a big bluff. There was a well known soap maker in the city 
who manufactured soft soap and sold it by the barrel. There 
was also a famous old blacksmith here who, of course, never 
made razors. The day after Creech's advertisement appeared 
I came out with a notice that I was doing business at the old 



BARBERS STORIES 31 I 

stand, still using Mansfield's soap and AverilPs blades. Of 
course, it was intended as a burlesque on Creech. I was well 
acquainted with him, but did not know how he would take the 
joke. He met me smiling in a few days and said, "Todd, that 
was the worst let-down I ever had." 

I had an apprentice boy many years ago who was very pre- 
cocious, with great self-reliance. He had not been in the shop 
but a very few days when he was anxious to shave someone ; 
he thought he could do it. My men had let him shave them 
to give him a little practice. One day a coal heaver from Com- 
mercial street came in with a very hard beard, full of coal dust, 
and I wanted to give the boy an object lesson to take the con- 
ceit out of him a little. I said, " Jimmie, go ahead and shave 
that gentleman." He commenced and worked for about half 
an hour, digging and scraping the man's face until it was as red 
as a beet ; finally, he got through and the man got out of the 
chair. The boy, fearing that he hadn't given satisfaction, 
stepped up to him with great assurance and said, " That was a 
good shave, sir, wasn't it ? " The old fellow rubbed his face 
and said, " It was a fine shave, my lad, but I have suffered 
damn bad for it." 

I had a neighbor, a Mr. Moxcey; occasionally we would play 
jokes on each other. One Saturday afternoon he was quite 
busy ; a longshoreman, an Irishman, came into his shop with a 
long and hard beard. Joe did not care to shave him, and 
thinking to play a trick on me, he said, "I am quite busy and 
you go up to Mr. Todd's, just above here, he don't have a 
great deal to do ; you would be very likely to get a shave there, 
and I will pay for it," handing him ten cents. The poor man 
went down to the foot of the stairs, stopped and thought for a 
few moments and said, " Faith, I will not go back on the gen- 
tleman, Mr. Moxcey, and I will go back and get him to shave 
me, if it takes all day." So he went back and gave Joe the 
same ten cents he had given him, saying that he would wait all 
day rather than to go back on him, the generous man that he 
was. 



312 BARBERS STORIES 

A Frenchman, a customer of mine, asked me if I knew one 
of the greatest men in Paris was a barber, and that they had 
erected a monument to him, said he could speak more lan- 
guages than any man in Paris. I said, "Do I understand you 
to say that he is a great man, and is still living, and they have 
erected a monument to his memory ? That must be a mistake, 
for great men are so far in advance of their time, they do not 
erect monuments to them during their lifetime, but rather stone 
them." 

My barber shop was my alma mater. Although I learned no 
Greek there, I did most everything else. 

An Irishman had a clock that he knew was always right, for 
when the hands pointed at twelve and it struck nine he knew it 
was half past seven. 

There were a couple of Irishmen out gunning. They saw a 
yellow-hammer, a bird of brilliant plumage. One of them fired 
at the bird and in the smoke he did not see it fly away. He 
ran to the foot of the tree and there was a large toad; he 
picked it up and said, " Mike, 'tis too bad, but I must have 
shot all the feathers off this bird." 

There was an Irishman who left home and got caught in the 
rain without his umbrella. When he got nearly to his destina- 
tion he said, " I will just turn back and go home and get my 
umbrella." 

There was an Irishman who was arrested for some petty 
crime. He paid his fine and was discharged, and turning to the 
judge he said, "Your Honor, give me a receipt." "Why," he 
said, "your freedom is your receipt." "But, suppose some day 
I should die and go up to the gate and Peter should ask if I 
had ever been arrested for crime and I should say, ' Yes, I was 
arrested.' Be jabers, I'd have to go all over Hades to hunt 
you up for my receipt to shaw I paid my fine and was honora- 
bly discharged." 



BARBERS STORIES 313 

There was an old colored man who lived in Portland. A 
heavy thunder storm came up and struck his house, shattering 
it a good deal, and he woke up, saying to himself, "Is dat rob- 
bers? That can't be so, 'cause I'se fastened the door with a 
gun." Calling to his wife he said, "Becky, am you dead?" 
"Why, no, Robert; am you?" she answered. 

An old lady of my acquaintance, who was noted for her 
industry and ceaseless toil, said, one day, "Oh, dear me, I do 
hope and pray that some day I may rest, but if I do not find it 
here, perhaps I shall have it in the grave. But there, I am not 
sure that I shall have a long rest even there, for it would be 
just my luck to have the resurrection take place the next day 
after my burial." 

Two sons of the Emerald Isle were walking through Deering 
Park and, seeing two monkeys playing together, one said, 
" Mike, just look at that largest monkey, he looks just like a 
man." "jl don't see it, Jamie, for he looks no more like a man 
than I do." 

The late Josh Billings was asked, " How fast does sound 
travel ? " His idea was that it depended a good deal upon the 
noise you are talking about. " The sound of a dinner horn, for 
instance, travels half a mile in a second ; while an invitation 
tew get up in the morning I have known to be three-quarters 
of an hour goin' up two pair of stairs, and then not hev strength 
enuff tew be heard." 

Billings : " I had rather die ignorant than to know a thousand 
things that are not so." 

I was walking down Congress street and met a colored man 
named Bassett. I said, "Good morning, Mr. Bassett ; how do 
you do this morning?" "I'm pretty well, thank you. How 
do you do ? " " How is the family, Mr. Bassett ? " "Oh, they 
am all pretty well, only the chile die." "What, you haven't 
lost your boy, have you? When did he die?" "Well, Mr. 
Todd, if he had lived till next Thursday he would a been dead 
three weeks." 



314 BARBERS STORIES 

During the incendiary fires there was a young Irishman 
accused of setting them ; he was arrested and taken into court. 
A neighbor, an old Irishman, was summoned as a witness. He 
said, " Mike didn't set the fires, and he can prove a 'yellow boi' 
(alibi), for he was in Freeport that day." The judge said, 
" Was he really in Freeport ? " "I didn't say he was in really, 
I said he was in Freeport, and, be jabers, did your honor think 
that Mike is a bird, and can be in two places at the same time." 

There was an Irishman setting on the steps on Center street 
one morning. An old lady, walking by, said, "Mr. Reagan, I 
seen crape on the door, who is dead over there ? " " Well, 
faith, I don't know, unless it's the man in the coffin." 

I almost hesitate to relate an occurrence that took place in 
my own shop. An old man from the country came in. Web- 
ster's Unabridged was laying on the table ; he opened it and 
said, " What a remarkable man Webster was to write this book, 
study law and become the great statesman that he was; I 
always thought it was a shame to hang him at last." I thought 
it was a case where ignorance was bliss and I didn't correct 
him. 

The first time I ever was called " Mr." Todd I was about sev- 
enteen years old. I was at a party in the country where the boys 
and girls used to play these games: "Down on this carpet you 
must kneel," "Green grow the rushes," "Kiss me quick and 
let me go." We boys used to call them kissing parties. I 
became a little smitten with a rosy-cheeked girl — about my first 
attempt with the goddess Venus. I waited upon her home, and 
as we were invited to another party that same week, I asked 
her to go with me and she consented, The afternoon of the 
party I borrowed my brother-in-law's bull's-eye watch, worth 
about two dollars and a half, dressed up for the occasion, and 
I thought the sun would never set. Before it was fairly dark I 
started for the girl's home, knocked at the door, and a tall, 
gaunt-looking figure, with a face that looked like a baked apple, 
as stern as anything could possibly be, stood in the door. I 



BARBERS STORIES 315 

said, "Is Lydia in?" and stood trembling. She said, "Who 
shall I say called?" To say "John" would have been very 
indefinite, and to say " Mr. Todd " was almost an impossi- 
bility, but finally I did say, " Mr. Todd." Lydia came to the 
door dressed for the party. When I arrived home I told them 
all about my experience, and the next morning when I got 
up I was met by my brothers and sisters with " Good morning, 
Mr. Todd," and they kept it up for about a week. Finally, my 
father stopped it by saying, " I think you have carried that joke 
about far enough," for I was his pet boy. I felt more embar- 
rassed when I was addressed as " Mr. Todd " than the man was 
who was on his way to be hung — a great crowd was following 
him; he turned and said, "Don't hurry, boys; there won't be 
any fun till I get there." 

The town of Houlton, in Aroostook county, received its name 
from Uncle Jimmy Houlton, one of the early pioneers into that 
new country. He was a man of strong sense with a sly bit of 
humor in his composition. He was appointed a Justice of the 
Peace and, for a time, was the only one in that section. Resid- 
ing in one of the incorporated places in that vicinity was a 
young couple who desired to be married and make a wedding 
journey to Bangor. The route to Bangor was through a forest 
with sparse settlements. They came to Houlton and called 
upon Uncle Jimmy to tie the nuptial knot before undertaking 
their journey. He informed them that his commission had 
expired and had not been renewed and that he could not marry 
them legally. They insisted that he should perform the cere- 
mony, and, unwilling that he should disappoint the young lovers, 
he told them that he guessed he could marry them well enough 
to last to Bangor. This he did and gave them the following 
certificate: "This certifies that I have this day united in the 
bonds of matrimony Mr. A. B. and Miss C. D. of township No. 
10 ; but it is no good, as my commission has run out, and this 
is to last only to Bangor, and is intended to 'kiver accidents ' 
in going through the woods." 



31 6 barbers' stories 

A few years ago, in New York, there was a couple married 
by the name of Mr. Right and Miss Betterway. In publishing 
the marriage the editor, quoting from Pope's " The Poet's 
Prayer " : 

" If I am right, Thy grace impart in the right to stay ; 

If I am wrong, Lord, teach my heart to find the better way," 

paraphrased it thus : 

" If I am Right, Thy grace impart in the Right to stay; 

If I am wrong, Lord, teach my heart to find Miss Betterway." 

A couple of Irishmen were passing through a cemetery and 
one of them read upon a headstone, " Here lies a lawyer and 
an honest man." He appeared somewhat astonished, and said 
to his companion, " Jamey, look here, an' faith is not that some- 
thing new, putting two men in one grave ? " 

A man was asked to contribute money to build a fence around 
a cemetery ; he refused for the reason he had " never known 
any one who had been placed there to try to get out, and had 
not seen any one who was anxious enough to go there as to 
break in." 

In the town of Guilford, Vt., there is a monument erected 
to the memory of a lieutenant governor of that state. After 
enumerating his many virtues it said: "He was over six feet 
high, weighed 250 pounds, and ' death had no terrors.' " 

In Quebec, the cottage which formerly was General Mont- 
calm's headquarters is now occupied by a barber, whose pro- 
fessional card, couched in synonymous terms, is eagerly sought 
after by tourists in old historic Quebec: "J. Williams, Profes- 
sor of Crinicultural Abscision and Cranilogical Tripsis, Tonso- 
rial Artist, Physiognomical Hair Dresser, Facial Operator, 
Cranium Manipulator and Capillary Abridger, &c, &c. Gen- 
eral Montcalms' Old Headquarters, Cor. St. Louis & Garden, 
Private Parlor for Ladies & Children's Hair Cutting. Entrance 
on Garden Street." 



BARBERS STORIES 317 



LORD COURTNEY'S EPITAPH. 

I tried to do all the good I could while passing through life, 
Knowing I would go this way but once, let this be my epitaph 
" What I spent I had, 

What I saved I left behind me, 

What I gave away I have taken with me." 



WHOM SHALL WE BOW TO. 
[The first lines I ever had printed, 1845.] 

Whom shall we bow to ? 

And what shall we bow to, here upon earth 

Shall we bow unto wealth, or to boasters of birth 

Or to knaves who in splendor do roll, 

Or shall we bow to truth, justice and right, 

For principal rather than policy fight 

And respect all that's noble of soul. 

Too much by policy governed are all 

That bastard of truth doth the many enthrall 

Men to popular vice homage show. 

'Tis what will they say inquires the mean slave 

Who lives more for show than for truth that can save 

And is false unto God here below. 

Nevermind what they say, look ye within, 

Examine your heart, see if 'tis free from all sin 

Look and see if your motives are pure. 

What thro' the bigot, the fool and the knave 

Should withhold their support and at you should rave 

If conscience approve, you're secure. 

Policy damns if we practice it here, 

'Tis truth we should fight for, as men without fear 

Trust the truth for it never can harm, 

Trust to the law that is higher than man, 

Live for true principles all ye who can, 

Trust the Lord and lean on his arm. 

—John M. Todd. 



3i8 barbers' stories 



IF I SHOULD DIE TO-NIGHT. 

If I should die to-night 

And when you should come to my old corpse and say 

Weeping and heartsick o'er my lifeless clay — 

If I should die to-night 

And you should come in deepest grief and woe 

And say " Here's that ten dollars that I owe " 

I might arise in my large white cravat 

And say " What's that ! " 

If I should die to-night 

And you should come to my old corpse and kneel 

Clasping my bier to show the grief you feel — 

I say, if I should die to-night 

And you should come to me, and there and then 

Just even hint " about paying me that ten, 

I might arise the while ; 

But I'd drop dead again. 

—King. 



The knot was tied, the pair were wed, 
And the smiling bridegroom said 
Unto the preacher, " Shall I pay 
To you the usual fee to-day, 
Or would you have me wait a year, 
And give you then a hundred clear, 
If I should find the marriage state 
As happy as I estimate ? " 
The preacher lost no time in thought, 
To his reply no study brought, 
There were no w 7 rinkles on his brow ; 
Said he, " I'll take three dollars now." 



BARBERS' FORMULAS. 



Todd's Hair Dye. Formula No. i : Dissolve two drachms 
of gallic acid in two ounces of alcohol, add one pint of soft 
water. 

Formula No. 2 : Take two ounces of gum arabic, put in a 
pint of soft water, add twelve grains of gallic acid, when dis- 
solved ready for use. 

Formula No. 3. Take one ounce nitric crystalized silver, 
add two ounces of aqua ammonia concentrated, when dissolved 
add five ounces of the gum solution. 

Formula No. 4 : One drachm of sulphate of potash, one 
ounce of soft water, shake it well. 

Oilman's Hair Dye. Formula No. 1 : Dissolve one ounce 
of gallic acid, six ounces of alcohol and when dissolved add one 
quart of soft water. 

Formula No. 2 : Dissolve one ounce of crystalized silver to 
four ounces of water, add one ounce of gum arabic as thick as 
it can be dissolved, then add one ounce of ammonia concentrate. 

Formula No. 3 : Dissolve one ounce of sulphate of potash 
in eight ounces of soft water. 

Dam's Hair Dye. Formula No. 1 : Dissolve four drachms 
of gallic acid into three and one-half ounces of alcohol, add 
one quart of soft water. 

Formula No. 2 : Dissolve one ounce of nitrate of silver in 
two ounces of soft water, add one ounce of aqua ammonia, three 
ounces of solution. 

Pennel's Hair Dye. Formula No. 1 : One half ounce of 
gallic acid, three ounces of alcohol in one pint of rain water. 



320 BARBERS FORMULAS 

Formula No. 2 : Dissolve one-quarter ounce of silver, one 
ounce of water, quarter of an ounce of gum arabic, quarter of 
an ounce of aqua ammonia. 

Nichol's Hair Dye. Formula No. 1 : Half ounce of gallic 
acid, alcohol six ounces, soft water half pint. 

Formula No. 2 : Nitrate of silver, one ounce ; soft water, three 
ounces ; gum arabic, one ounce ; spirits of ammonia, one 
ounce. 

Cram's Hair Dye. Formula No. 1 : Gallic acid, one ounce, 
dissolve in spirits of wine, add two quarts of soft water. 

Formula No. 2 : Make a gum solution of distilled water and 
gum tragacanth, to three ounces of this solution add one ounce 
of nitrate of silver, after the silver is dissolved add one half 
an ounce of ammonia. 

Directions for using these dyes: Wash out the hair or whis- 
kers clean with soap and water thoroughly and then dry it. 
Then apply number one with a tooth brush, dry the hair well, 
then, take a clean tooth brush and apply number two. Be 
sure to get every spear dry. Then go through the same 
process with number three with a clean brush. 

Todd's Luxsolus Liquid Dye. Formula No. 1 : Nitrate of 
silver, one-quarter ounce ; spirits of ammonia, one-half ounce. 
This is the same as the Capalani Hair Dye (soft water, six 
ounces). Directions : Moisten the hair with a tooth brush. 

Directions for using Todd's Luxsolus (light of the sun) Liquid 
Dye : Wash out the hair and whiskers clean, dry thoroughly 
then take a tooth brush and apply the liquid, wet the hair with 
the dye, be careful not to get it on the skin, if you do wipe it 
off before it dries. 

For removing dye from the skin : Gum of potash, one-half 
ounce; soft water, one ounce. 

Hair Oil. One quart of castor oil, three quarts of alcohol, 
three drops of liquid of potassa, scented with oil of rose. 



BARBERS FORMULAS 32 1 

Comam Crescre. Three parts alcohol, one of castor oil, 
scented with lemon and rose. 

Todd's Hungarian Balm. For making ten gallons : Tincture 
of Spanish flies, four ounces ; benzoeic tincture compound, two 
ounces ; peruvian bark, two and one-half ounces ; borax, two 
and one-half; rosemary, three; salt, three; glycerine, ten 
pounds ; water, ten gallons ; scented with musk and bitter 
almond filtered through paper. 

Aqua Vita. Water, one gallon ; tincture of contharies, two 
ounces ; benzoes, two ounces ; peruvian park, one-half ounce ; 
borax, one-half ounce ; perfume bergumot. 

Cough Drops. One-half drachm powdered epicac, two ounces 
paragoric, one pint of water, three drops checkerberry, sweeten 
with sugar. 

Sea Foam. One quart of alcohol, four ounces glycerine, 
one ounce of ammonia, one quart of soft water. 

Powder for the face. Pulverized arrow root mixed with rice 
flowers equal parts. 

Cure for humors. Acetic acid, one ounce; one ounce of 
tincture of muriate iron. 

Sea Foam. Rain water, one pint ; alcohol, one pint ; glyce- 
rine, one-half ounce ; ammonia, one-quarter ounce. 

To prevent hair from falling out. Take an eight-ounce 
bottle, fill it with water, put in a table spoonful of sulphur, 
shake it whenever used and put it on and rub it well in the 
hair for three -night in succession. Do this once a week until 
the hair ceases to drop out. 

Cure for ring-worms. Acetic acid, tincture of iron, or per 
sulphur of iron, equal parts. 

Cure for humors. Sure cure for what is called the barber's 
itch. Acetic acid, one ounce ; tincture of muriatic iron, equal 
parts. Directions for using : take a feather or a stick and dip 



32 2 BARBERS FORMULAS 

it into the liquid and moisten the sore with it a few times. 
Don't drink it, it is poison. 

In 1846 and '47 while the Mexican war was being carried on, 
General Twiggs was in the fight. He was troubled with a 
bad sore of the scalp. The doctor prescribed as a remedy 
lax-sulphur and sugar of lead. Wherever it came in contact 
with the hair it restored it to its original color. The account 
of it was given out in the newspapers and a druggist put it up and 
called it "Twiggs' Hair Dye," and it had a great run. I sold 
much of it until I become satisfied that it was injurious to the 
health, for sugar of lead is a poison and I have never seen any 
hair dye that took from ten to thirty days to change the color 
of the hair that did not contain sugar of lead. 



IF I WERE A VOICE. 



If I were a voice, a persuasive voice, 

That could travel the wide world through, 

I would fly on the beams of the morning light, 

And speak to men with a gentle might, 
And tell them to be true, 

I would fly, I would fly over land and sea, 

Wherever a human heart might be, 

Telling a tale or singing a song 

In praise of the right, in blame of the wrong. 

If I were a voice, a consoling voice, 

I'd fly on the wings of air; 
The homes of sorrow and guilt I'd seek, 
And calm and truthful words I'd speak, 

To save them from despair, 
I would fly, I would fly o'er the crowded town, 
And drop like the happy sunlight down 
Into the hearts of suffering men, 
And teach them to look up again. 

If I were a voice, a convincing voice, 

I'd travel with the wind; 
And wherever I saw a nation torn 
By warfare, jealousy, spite, and scorn, 

Or hatred of their kind, 
I would fly, I would fly on the thunder-crash, 
And into their blinded bosoms flash ; 
Then, with their evil thoughts subdued, 
I'd teach them Christian Brotherhood. 

If I were a voice, an immoital voice, 

I would fly the earth around, 
And wherever a man to idols bowed 
I'd publish in notes both long and loud 

The gospel's joyful sound. 
I would fly, I would fly on the wings of day, 
Proclaiming peace on my world-wide way, 
Bidding the saddened earth rejoice — 
If I were a voice — an immortal voice. 



If this book will induce men and women to love their 
neighbors as themselves, I shall feel that my life has 
not been a failure. 



OCT 5 I90G 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

029 785 209 7 



